What Are You, Mick St John?
by Nocturne in C Moll
Summary: Sequel to I Know What You Are, Mick. Carl and Josh investigate Mick St. John after his showdown with Lee Jay Spalding.
1. Prologue

Beta: Much thanks and appreciation goes to Barb, a.k.a. Bank1115.

Disclaimer: Is one really necessary, seeing as this is posted on a fan fiction site?

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Prologue**

Lieutenant Carl Davis hovered near the ambulance, waiting for the paramedics to give him the okay to interview Julia Stevens. Finally the EMT stepped back and motioned for him to move in. He stepped forward.

"Miss Stevens, I'm Lieutenant Davis. Can you tell me what happened to you here tonight?"

Julia nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

"I picked Lee Jay up from the hospital. We'd finally gotten away from the reporters, and just wanted to go home. But Lee Jay said he had to make a stop first. He directed me here. He had me come inside with him," her voice broke, "and then he changed. He hit me, shoved me face first down on a couch, and yanked my arms behind my back. Two other men were there, and they helped him tie me up. I asked him why he was doing this. He said I was bait," she spat, "_bait_. He was going to lure Mick St. John here, and then kill him."

"He say why?"

Julia shook her head. "No, he wasn't very clear on that. I gather it had something to do with Mick's father, I guess—you know, the one that helped put him away."

"Right."

"He made me call Beth," Julia continued. "Then he ripped the phone away from me and demanded she put him on. He made all kinds of accusations and demands."

"Like what?"

"I'm sorry, I don't really remember. Something about 'I know who you are' and 'If you don't turn yourself in, Julia ends up like"—she started sobbing—"like Ilene. I can't believe I was so stupid! I really believed he was innocent!" She covered her face.

"Okay. It's okay. You're okay now," Carl said in a soothing tone.

Julia sniffled and nodded. "Then we waited. Waited for Mick to come. I was so afraid Lee Jay was going to kill me before he did. But he didn't. And then Mick came…" she trailed off.

Carl nodded. "Go on," he prodded gently.

"Mick…Mick saved me," Julia hiccuped. "He jumped down from the rafters"—Carl raised an eyebrow at this—"and grabbed the first guy. Twisted his neck. Then he grabbed the second guy and threw him right across the room. He ripped off my restraints and told me to run. So I did. That's when Lee Jay came in with a shot gun." She gulped tearfully. "He shot Mick and he fell to the ground. I was afraid, so I ran away. Beth was outside the building, waiting in a car. I told her Mick had been shot. Sh-she told me to call the police and ran into the building. Is Mick—is Mick okay?"

"He's fine." Carl replied tersely. _So fine, he's not even here_. "Thank you, Miss Stevens. When the paramedics have cleared you, I'll have someone take you home. Okay?"

Julia nodded, wiping her tear-streaked face with one hand.

"Okay," Carl patted her on the arm as he looked around for his next witness. His gaze zeroed in on Beth Turner, standing awkwardly beside a classic Mercedes Benz. _This should be interesting…_

"Beth!" He called. Her head snapped up. Carl tilted his head to the right and walked several feet in that direction, indicating he wanted to speak to her privately over there. She walked over to meet him.

"Carl."

"Beth, you wanna tell me what happened here tonight?"

She took a deep breath and nodded.

"Good," Carl began. "I have Miss Stevens's version of the events up until she exited the warehouse and you entered. I need to know what happened next inside that warehouse, Beth."

Beth nodded again.

"Okay," Carl continued, "So Julia said Lee Jay shot Mick and he fell to the ground. Then she ran out of the building and into you. You told her to call us, and ran in to assist Mick. Is this correct so far?" He poised his pen over his notebook, ready to take notes.

"Yes," Beth replied. "Julia must have thought Lee Jay had shot Mick because the gun went off and he fell to the ground. But the first round must have malfunctioned or something. Mick was on the ground because he dove for cover. I came in when he got up. Lee Jay was temporarily distracted by me, and Mick managed to get behind him before he noticed. Lee Jay tried to shoot him again, but he missed. He didn't have any more rounds, and he and Mick fought. It was self-defense. I saw it all."

Carl stopped writing. "And where is Mick now? He knows better than to leave a scene." He tapped his notebook impatiently.

"I made him go home. He wanted to stay, but I could tell he really wasn't up for giving a statement tonight. He was exhausted. He finally agreed and said to tell you he'd come by the station tomorrow."

Carl frowned. "Fine, but he'd better show up, because if he doesn't…"

"He will." Beth turned. "He saved Julia's life, you know. And a dangerous killer is off the streets."

"Hmm." Carl grunted as Beth walked away. He'd already been inside the warehouse once and seen the three bodies strewn about—one man took down three guys? Just who was the dangerous killer supposed to be?

Then there was Julia's fantastical statement, versus Beth's more sedate one. He shook his head. Something wasn't right here…

Carl grabbed the arm of a passing officer. "I want forensics all over this place—like, yesterday," he ordered.

The officer nodded. "I'll call it in, Lieutenant."

* * *

Josh had returned from his public affairs errand within an hour and a half of his leaving Beth and Mick at her apartment. His friend hadn't taken much convincing after hearing Beth's answering machine recording of Mick's conversation with Lee Jay.

Beth wasn't home—she'd obviously gone with Mick. Josh wished he could blame Mick for allowing Beth to accompany him on a quest to rescue a woman from a dangerous killer bent on revenge. But, if he were honest with himself…he knew her; he knew how stubborn she could be, especially when friends were involved.

Nothing to do but wait for her to arrive home.

He turned the TV on low in the background and sat on the couch with some case notes. More than an hour later, he realized he was still on the second page and gave up trying to concentrate. He turned the TV off and went into the kitchen; he'd be likely to hear about anything that happened before it showed up on the news anyway.

Dishes—something mindless to occupy the time. He filled the dishpan and plunged his hands into the soapy water, letting it warm them for a moment. Then he reached for one glass, then another.

The tray was nearly full when Lee Jay's voice suddenly interrupted his wandering thoughts. "_I know what you are, Mick_."

Josh's hands stilled in the water. When Lee Jay said that, Mick had stiffened and turned to them, looking almost panicked, as if he were afraid Lee Jay would spill his secret right then and there. _So what did Lee Jay mean? What is Mick? Dirty PI? Degenerate gambler? Drug smuggler? Transvestite?_

Just then Josh heard the key in the lock and dropped the plate he was holding back into the water. He quickly dried his hands on the towel as the door slowly opened.

"Beth!"

"Hi, Josh." She stood in the entranceway.

"Thank God you're all right, I was worried sick!" He rushed over to her.

Beth smiled weakly. "Sorry…"

Josh pulled her into a long embrace, then pulled back to stroke her cheek. "Beth…what happened tonight? Is everyone okay? Julia?"

"Julia's fine—well, she's okay. She'll be fine. Mick saved her."

"—and Mick?"

"He's all right, now that this is over…"

"Lee Jay's back in custody?"

"No. He's dead," Beth said flatly.

Josh's eyebrows shot up.

Beth sighed and elaborated. "He shot at Mick; it was self-defence."

"Did you witness it?" He ran his fingers down to her chin.

Beth nodded, slowly, turning her face away.

"My poor Beth."

He pulled her back into his embrace.

"So where have you been for all this time?"

Beth said nothing; just stared at a spot off on the wall.

"Beth?" Josh's voice broke through her daze.

Beth shook her head loosely. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just really tired. It's been a long night. What were you asking?"

"Where have you been? I got home hours ago." His eyes searched hers.

Beth took a deep breath and stepped out of his arms. "Mick had tagged Julia's car with a GPS device. I went along with him as navigator. We found Julia's car at a warehouse. I stayed in the car while Mick went inside," Beth sunk onto the couch.

"A few minutes later, Julia ran out of the warehouse. She said Lee Jay had shot Mick. I told her to call the police, and I went inside to help Mick."

"Are you crazy?!"

Beth frowned. "I thought my friend was hurt. He saved my life once, I thought I'd attempt to return the favour."

Josh still looked at her incredulously.

"I had a gun!" Beth shot back. "Mick gave me one before he went inside."

Josh sat down beside her and took her hand. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I was just so worried—Lee Jay turned out to have a habit of murdering women, and the thought of you rushing in there alone—"

"It's okay, Josh. I understand."

They stared at each other until each of their mouths turned up slightly at the corners.

"Anyway, so go on," Josh prompted her.

"So I rushed into the building"—she paused for a moment—"and, uh…I saw Mick getting up off the ground. He was okay. Turned out Lee Jay's round malfunctioned or something. When I ran in, I startled him, and distracted him long enough for Mick to jump him. Lee Jay tried to shoot Mick again and missed. That's when Mick got him."

"He shot him?"

"No, I had his gun. He snapped Lee Jay's neck."

Josh was puzzled. "Mick went in there unarmed, knowing there was a guy in there wanting to kill him?"

"Yeah, I-I guess he didn't want to leave me unprotected."

"Huh." Josh fell silent.

"So anyway," Beth began again, "I made Mick go home—he was exhausted—and I waited for the police to give my statement. Then I took Mick's car home and talked to him for a while about…what happened tonight. He just dropped me off."

Josh said nothing.

"Look, Josh, can we just go to bed, please? It's been a really rough night."

"Yeah, sure. You go ahead. I'll be right in."

Beth smiled at him and squeezed his hand for a moment before dropping it and moving down the hall.

"What did Lee Jay know about you, Mick St. John?" Josh murmured.


	2. Chapter 1

Beta: Barb (Bank1115) is awesome.

Disclaimer: Is one really necessary, seeing as this is posted on a fan fiction site?

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 1**

Carl had called the station several times that day to check in. His shift didn't start till the late afternoon, and he didn't want to miss Mick St. John coming in to give his statement. He didn't have to worry; Mick showed up a few hours into his shift.

"Thanks for coming in, Mick," Carl shook his hand and gestured for him to take a seat in the chair beside his desk.

"Sure. Sorry I didn't stick around yesterday, but I was beat and a pushy reporter drove me away," Mick flashed a grin.

Carl snorted. "Yeah, I know how it is. That's Beth for you." He watched as Mick lowered himself into the chair. He looked a little rough, like he hadn't slept much. "Sore?"

"A little, nothing major," Mick replied.

"Any visible bruising?"

"Nah." He winced and held up a hand to shield his face from the setting sun. "I'm a little light sensitive at the moment, though, do you think we could drop the shades?"

"Sure." Carl yanked the blind down. "Better?"

Mick nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

"Good. Let's get started, then. Tell me everything that happened last night," Carl flipped open his notebook.

"Okay," Mick nodded. "Well, after we got the phone call—"

"—What phone call?" Carl interrupted. He'd already heard about it from Smythe in Public Affairs, but he wanted to hear what Mick would say.

"From Lee Jay, at Beth's house," Mick clarified. "He'd seen my video statement that Beth posted on Buzzwire."

"Okay," Carl made a few notes. "And what did Lee Jay say in this phone call?"

Mick hesitated for a few seconds, looking away.

"Mick?" Carl prompted.

"Right." Mick's eyes snapped back to Carl's. "Um, well, Beth answered the phone. It was Julia at first. You'll have to ask Beth for those details. I, uh," Mick bent his head, scratching behind his ear, "didn't hear what was said, of course.

"Then I guess Lee Jay grabbed the phone and ordered Beth to put me on the line."

"And what did Lee Jay say to you?"

"He said he wanted me to go to the nearest police station. To turn myself in. I said I didn't do anything, so I wasn't going to say I did. He told me if I felt that way about it, Julia'd end up like Ilene. He told me I had one hour. He put Julia on again so I could hear her beg. 'Hard to say no to, isn't it?' were his words. Then he hung up."

"Yeah, Spalding turned out to be a real bastard hypocrite, didn't he?"

Mick didn't smile. "Not 'turned out to be.' _Was_. He always was."

"Right." Carl looked down at the pen in his hand. "Anyway, go on."

"Josh said he had a friend in public affairs that he might be able to get to issue a statement that I'd turned myself in. He went to do go see him. I had put a tag on Julia's car earlier. Beth came with me to keep an eye on the GPS tracker while I drove."

Carl made a notation on the pad. _He didn't mention the recording. Interesting._

When he looked back up, Mick was regarding him carefully. He shifted slightly. "Okay, then what happened?"

"We found the warehouse. I gave Beth the gun from my glovebox, told her to wait in the car. Then I went in. I didn't see Lee Jay, but his two goons were there. They—"

"Wait a minute," Carl held up his hand. He sat back in his chair. "How'd you enter the building?"

Mick raised an eyebrow. "Through the door, like everybody else?"

Carl flipped back a few pages in his notebook. "In Miss Stevens's statement, she claimed you jumped down from the…rafters."

Mick laughed. "Let me guess, I had red underwear and a cape, too, right?" He sobered and shook his head. "Julia was lying down on the couch, looking sideways. Everything's distorted from that angle. I came in and jumped the guy closest to me. In her terrified state, she must've mistook that motion for me coming down from the sky."

Carl stared at Mick for a few moments. Mick returned his stare evenly. Finally, Carl shrugged. "Fine. Okay, go on." He motioned for Mick to continue.

"They were about to kill Julia. I took them out. Then—"

"Hold on. What'd you do to them? How'd you take them out?"

Mick exhaled slowly. "I dunno, it all happened kinda fast, I was running high on adrenalin. I think I snapped the first guy's neck. Second guy, I think I pushed or kicked him hard, and he fell into something and hit his head."

Carl nodded. "What next?"

"Uh," Mick sighed, "I went over and untied Julia. Told her to get out of there. She ran. That was when Lee Jay came out of hiding. He fired at me, but nothing hit me. Must've been a bad round. I hit the deck anyway."

"Julia Stevens said he shot you."

Mick raised his hands. "Hey, man, she was running scared. And like I said, I heard a gunshot, I hit the floor. It probably just looked like he shot me."

"All right, all right. Then what?"

"I was just getting up when Beth suddenly ran in. Lee Jay wasn't expecting her, so he was caught off guard. I took my chance and moved on him. We struggled. He got away and tried to shoot me again, but he was off balance and missed. I grabbed him. I think I broke his neck, too."

"Where'd you learn to do that?"

"An old buddy of mine who was in the army showed me some moves one time."

"Okay." Carl flipped his notepad shut and tapped it with his pen. "Well, that's all I need from you for now for this investigation. We'll be in touch."

Mick stayed put in his chair. "Investigation?"

"Yeah." Carl tossed his notebook on his desk and sat back in his chair. "Standard procedure. But the witness statements are relatively consistent, if you explain away some of Miss Stevens's more dramatic claims, and I'm sure the forensics will back up your story, so you shouldn't have anything to worry about."

"Right. Of course." Mick stood stiffly and held out his hand. "Thanks, Carl."

"You bet, Mick."

Carl's eyes stayed on the PI as he sauntered across the room. When Mick reached the doorway, he paused and looked back. He nodded once at Carl, then he was gone.

"Something's definitely off with that guy," Carl mumbled. He picked up his phone.

"Yeah, I need to speak with ADA Josh Lindsey, please."


	3. Chapter 2

Author's note: While I've tried to be at least somewhat accurate in terms of forensics, there's only so much I can do without going crazy. This is a fan fiction story, written and read for fun, and I don't have the time or patience to do in-depth research. Plus, it's based on a TV show, and we all know how accurate those are. ;) Anyway, I just hope it's all plausible and believable. I didn't go too in-depth for that reason. If anyone knowledgeable notices anything that's a little far-fetched or is completely inaccurate, please let me know. Other than that, enjoy!

Beta: Much thanks and appreciation goes to my superbeta, the ever-awesome Barb (Bank1115). She's amazing! This story would not be where it's at right now without her encouragement and assistance—whether it be prodding me and my muse along or correcting my boo-boos. She even helps me with research!

Disclaimer: Is one really necessary, seeing as this is posted on a fan fiction site?

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 2**

"_Lieutenant Carl Davis on line one for you_."

Josh thanked his assistant via the speakerphone, then picked up the receiver and pressed the button to connect the call.

"Carl?"

"_Josh…hey. I assume you heard from Beth what happened last night_."

"Yeah…she's a little shook up."

"_Understandable. But listen, something's not quite adding up, and_—"

"—For you too, huh," Josh interrupted.

"_What?_"

"I'm by no means disputing that what Mick said about Spalding was true, I mean, that's obvious—but there's something about Mick…I don't know."

"_That's exactly why I'm calling you. St. John just came in to give his statement._"

"And?" Josh leaned forward.

"_On the surface, it all seems plausible…but he seemed uncomfortable about the fact that the investigation isn't closed. Not to mention, the phone call—which is what I wanted to ask you about_…"

"He was uncomfortable about the phone call."

"_Yeah, he was; he tried to downplay it_—"

"Oh, I wasn't asking, I was telling: I know for a fact: he was uncomfortable about the phone call—one part in particular. He wasn't giving in to Spalding's demands, until Spalding yelled, 'You do not talk to me that way! I know what you are, Mick.' And then Mick shut right up and listened."

Josh heard Carl's low whistle on the other end. "_Huh. Mick conveniently left part out_. _Did he explain what Spalding meant_?"

"Nope."

"_Maybe that's why he didn't mention the recording—didn't want me to go looking for it and start asking questions_."

"Yeah, well, it's already started me wondering." Josh expelled a breath. "Beth erased it this morning."

"_What_?!"

"Yeah…said we didn't need it anymore, Julia was safe; and she didn't want it on there as a constant reminder of what happened."

"_Hmm_."

"There wasn't anything actually incriminating on it—well, at least not to Mick. Lee Jay, of course, hung himself with that phone call. Duncan Smythe only needed to hear it once before he agreed to release the statement saying Mick had turned himself in."

"_Guess it's not like we'll need it for a trial, anyway—not since Mick snapped his neck_."

"Yeah, that's what Beth said—you also think it weird Mick went in there unarmed, knowing that there was a dangerous ex-con and possibly some of his buddies in there?"

"_Yeah…he must be the cockiest bastard I know. Said some old buddy of his taught him some moves._"

"You believe him?"

"_I dunno._ _It's not _im_possible—unlike some of the stuff Julia Stevens said…she claimed Mick jumped down from the rafters._"

Josh snorted. "Eyewitnesses say the darndest things sometimes, eh?"

"_Yeah_. _Anyway_, _the lab just dropped their fingerprint report on my lap. I'm going to take a look at it now_."

"Keep me posted." Josh hung up and tapped his finger on the desk thoughtfully.

* * *

Carl pawed through the file until he found the list of fingerprint evidence. He scanned the sheet until he saw what he was looking for: _Identifiable prints: Side door. Exterior—Ricardo "Ricky Ricardo" Acevedo; Cameron Boyd; Lee Jay Spalding; Beth Turner (elimination sample). Interior—Ricardo "Ricky Ricardo" Acevedo; Cameron Boyd; Lee Jay Spalding; Julia Stevens (elimination sample); Beth Turner (elimination sample); Unknown A._

Carl frowned. Lee Jay and his two chumps had put their dirty little paws on both sides of the door, not surprising. And according to Julia Stevens's statement, Lee Jay had played the gentleman until they had gotten inside, so he probably opened the door for her on their way in. She later exited under her own power, hence her prints only on the inside. Beth had both entered and exited—her prints explained. But what about the complete absence of Mick St. John's prints? As a PI, his were in the system. He couldn't be the unknown. And why were the unknown person's on the inside only? Lee Jay couldn't have had another hostage; Julia Stevens would certainly have noticed. And the detailed fingerprint notes stated that one of Unknown A's prints was found slightly overlapping one of Julia Stevens's prints, meaning that Unknown A had exited the warehouse _after_ Julia, so it wasn't an old print. Someone else was in that warehouse—someone that any or all of the three people who had exited that warehouse alive either hadn't noticed or weren't mentioning.

But first to deal with St. John and the lack of his prints. Carl imagined that no one had opened the door for St. John. So, what, then—gloves? Who wears gloves in L.A. besides burglars? Or someone else who doesn't want their fingerprints found… Mick had definitely said he used the door like everyone else. The only other alternative besides him wearing gloves was expressed in Julia Steven's statement. And that was just…

"Impossible."

But the idea wouldn't go away. It nagged at him while he drove his car. It ate at him while he devoured his cochinita pibils. It drove him mad until he put his car into drive and headed in the direction of the warehouse where it had all gone down. He smacked the steering wheel. "_Fine_…I'll go play junior detective."

Carl circled the warehouse, looking for a way up from the ground. Nothing.

Inside, he found a narrow metal staircase zigzagging up the wall to a door that opened onto the roof. He removed his jacket and threw it on a nearby table, but several clinking sounds made him promptly pick up his jacket to see what was underneath. A half-dozen wooden stakes rolled and bumped into each other on the table. He picked one up to examine it. _Wooden stakes? What, were Lee Jay and his goons planning to go camping afterwards, to celebrate offing Lee Jay's nemesis's son?!_ He shrugged and put it back on the table. He climbed the staircase slowly, trying to balance his kit and not look down. "Damn things I do to satisfy my gut's wacky hunches…" he muttered.

The door was locked from the inside. So obviously Mick had not entered or exited through that door, even if he had miraculously managed to find another way up to the roof. Carl turned around on the tiny landing in front of the door and looked up slightly, over at the rafters. _No freakin' way…_ But still he opened the door and stepped out onto the roof. He was several feet from the edge, but still turned and sidestepped over to the windows opening just above and beside the rafters. One was open slightly. He put his kit down and took out some jars of bright red powder. He twirled the fingerprint brush first in the powder, then all over the edge and handle of the open window.

Carl's stomach twisted as several prints showed up. _You've got to be kidding me…_He stared at them for a moment before taking out a set of tape lifts. Some were smudged, but there were quite a few that were usable. Carefully, he pressed each set of prints, preserving them.

"Why do I hate that my crazy hunch was proved right?!"


	4. Chapter 3

Author's note: While I've tried to be at least somewhat accurate in terms of forensics, there's only so much I can do without going crazy. This is a fan fiction story, written and read for fun, and I don't have the time or patience to do in-depth research. Plus, it's based on a TV show, and we all know how accurate those are. Anyway, I just hope it's all plausible and believable. I didn't go too in-depth for that reason. If anyone knowledgeable notices anything that's a little far-fetched or is completely inaccurate, please let me know. Other than that, enjoy!

Beta: Much thanks and appreciation goes to my superbeta, the ever-awesome Barb (Bank1115). She's amazing! This story would not be where it's at right now without her encouragement and assistance—whether it be prodding me and my muse along or correcting my boo-boos. She even helps me with research!

Disclaimer: Is one really necessary, seeing as this is posted on a fan fiction site?

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?**_—_**Chapter 3**

Carl didn't tell the lab tech where he had recovered the prints. A couple hours later, Sam called Carl back down to the lab.

"What do you have for me, Sammy?"

"We've got prints from two different persons, Lieutenant."

"_Two_?!" Carl exclaimed. _Please tell me _one_ of them is Mick St. John!_ "Are either identifiable?"

"Yes; both, in a sense."

Carl raised an eyebrow.

Sam continued, "One belongs to a PI named Mick St. John."

Carl breathed a sigh of relief. _Wait a minute—why am I _relieved_ that St. John's prints were inexplicably found on the roof?!_ "—And the other?"

"The other set matches Unknown A, whose prints were on the interior of the side door."

Carl furrowed his brow. So this unknown subject had came in the same impossible way that St. John had? _What the hell is going on here?_ "You couldn't match any of Unknown A's prints to the driver's licence database?"

"No. There was one thumbprint on the door and one on the roof; both were smudged, unfortunately."

"Damn. Okay, thanks, Sammy." He turned to go.

"Lieutenant, wait—"

Carl stopped and looked back. "Yeah?" he prompted impatiently.

Sam was looking down at the floor, frowning. "That's not all. The forensics team found what appears to be blood spatter on the floor of the warehouse."

"_Appears_ to be blood spatter?"

Sam nodded. "The pattern is similar to the one that would occur if someone blasted you with a shotgun. But the blood is—"

But Carl was no longer paying attention; Julia Stevens's statement was echoing in his head. '_Lee Jay shot Mick…_' What seemed impossible before was now not what it seemed. He smacked the table enthusiastically. "Okay. Just give me a sample and I'll outsource it to BioAnalysis for analysis. I have a friend that works there, and they'll be faster than the state lab. Then we can compare it to all of the deceased and the victim."

"Don't bother. It won't be any of them—it would be impossible."

Carl frowned. "Why?"

"They were human."

"This blood wasn't human?"

"Not exactly…"

"So it's animal then?"

"Not really…"

Carl pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Sam, I don't have time to play Twenty Questions. What is it?"

"I don't know what it is, Lieutenant. It's weird—it's obviously blood, but when I performed the antigen-antibody test it didn't get a reading for either human or animal."

"Some kind of synthetic blood, perhaps?"

"No, it's all organic. Have the other lab do a detailed analysis on it; but to me, for all intents and purposes, it seems to be blood."

"You're positive that the sample was not contaminated in any way?"

"Positive. Although the blood contained traces of silver, which is unusual to say the least…but there was no silver found on the floor around the blood, nor could it have been introduced by one of our forensics team during collection."

"Silver…" Carl drummed his fingers on his desk. He shook his head. "Whatever. Okay. Keep examining the blood. Try to figure out possible reasons for the silver. If you can give me that blood sample now, I'll run it over to BioAnalysis myself."

Sam nodded. "Sure, Lieutenant."

Carl waited for the lab tech to put together the blood sample, then took it carefully and left the room. This was one sample he didn't want to send by courier.

* * *

Carl blew out a deep breath as he climbed the stairs to the third floor where his friend was a DNA analysis technician. Outside the door, he stood in front of the video camera and pressed the button to activate the light that would let her know someone was wanting to enter. A moment later, the door opened noiselessly.

She was waiting, facing the door, with an expectant grin on her face. "Carl! It's so good to see you!" she exclaimed. Then she noticed the biological sample container he carried. "Should I be disappointed that this doesn't appear to be a social call?" she pouted playfully.

"Maizie…I have a weird one for you."

The lab technician perked up even more. "I _love_ weird ones. You're forgiven." She stretched out her hands. "So gimme. What is it?"

"Blood. When my guy ran the antigen-antibody test, it didn't come up as human_ or_ animal."

Maizie's eyebrows shot up. "Did he do the test a couple times? Perhaps it was a faulty stick."

Carl shrugged. "I don't know—but he's always pretty thorough, so I imagine he would've. He did say there were traces of silver in the blood, though—could that mess up the results?"

Maizie frowned. "It shouldn't. But, _silver_?! That's definitely weird. I can't imagine why there'd be silver in the blood, unless someone was using it as an atypical poison in an attempt to avoid detection. Too much silver in the bloodstream, and you die, but it's not something MEs usually screen for."

"Yeah, well, at the moment I'm a little more concerned about the not human, not animal blood in that container. My guy confirmed it's not synthetic blood. I want to know what it is, and who—or what—it could belong to."

"Right. I'll get right on it."

"In the meantime, I'm going to try and get a sample for comparison."

Maizie swivelled around slowly in her chair. "So this means you _do_ have an idea of who—or what—it could belong to."

"Well…I have a place to start. It's a long shot, but then…so's that blood, I would've thought." He nodded towards the container. "If it really is not human and not animal, what else could it be?"

"Well…let me get at it and I'll see what I can come up with, shall I?"

"Call me as soon as you get anything. Thanks, Maizie."

"No, thank _you_, Carl. It's not every day I get to work on a real puzzle like this—although I suppose I should actually be thanking the government for the inefficiency of their labs?" she winked at him as he walked past her on his way to the door.

He grinned in response. "I plead the fifth. Actually I just really wanted an excuse to see _you_, Hot Stuff. "

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, get out of here, you. I have important work to do."

"Yes you do. And I'm going to go get something for you to compare it to."

On his way out of BioAnalysis, he looked at his watch. _Perfect—he should be home. Mick St. John, guess who's coming to dinner?_


	5. Chapter 4

Beta: Much thanks and appreciation goes to my superbeta, Barb (Bank1115). She's awesome. This story wouldn't be where it is without her.

Disclaimer: Is one really necessary, seeing as this is posted on a fan fiction site?

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 4**

It was almost half past six in the evening when Carl knocked on the door to Mick St. John's penthouse. He tried a couple of times over the span of a minute and was about to give up when the door suddenly opened.

"Carl." Mick's eyes stared into—no, _through_—his. It was if he knew what he was there for. "What can I do for you?" He leaned against the doorpost.

"Mick," Carl stepped forward, his heart beating slightly faster. "Can I come in?"

"Oh-kay." Before moving aside to let him pass, Mick turned and glanced around his apartment, as if making certain it was presentable.

Carl casually looked around as he moved into the living space. It was immaculate. _So. Either this guy's obsessive-compulsive, or he's got something to hide_.

"Can I offer you a drink?" Mick headed towards the bar.

"No, thanks," Carl waved him off. "I'm still on the clock."

"I see." Mick poured himself a glass of single malt and settled into an easy chair, gesturing for Carl to take a seat at the same time.

They stared at each other for a few moments until Carl finally had to look away for a moment. He cleared his throat.

"I was wondering if you had remembered anything that you forgot to tell me about when you gave your statement about the other night."

Mick cocked an eyebrow. "Like?"

"We found some blood at the scene that didn't match any of the deceased or Miss Stevens."

"So?"

"Well, you and Beth were the only others there, and both of you claim not to be injured."

"That's because neither of us are."

"So how do you explain the blood?"

Mick put down his drink and turned up his palms. "I don't know…it _is_ a warehouse. Maybe someone injured themselves on the job." He leaned back into the chair.

"The warehouse hadn't been used in weeks before Lee Jay and his crew showed up. The blood was fresh. And I'm inclined to believe it's yours over Beth's, since you were the one wrestling with the bad element."

"What do you want me to do, Carl? Strip naked and prove to you I don't have a scratch?" He flashed a smile.

"Come on, Mick, nobody in this room wants to see that." He sat forward and clasped his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees. "All I need is a DNA sample." He nodded down at the sample collection kit he had brought with him.

"No." Mick shook his head for emphasis.

Carl frowned. "Why not? If Lee Jay injured you during the struggle, it should only help your self-defence claim."

"Look, Carl…" Mick began. "I don't understand, why does this even matter? And just what do you mean, self-defence _claim_?"

"No one's disputing that Lee Jay got what was coming to him. But the department frowns upon others dishing out the justice."

Mick looked straight into Carl's eyes. "I _was_ dishing out justice—but it all came in defence of myself and another."

Carl returned Mick's stare. Just when he thought he was about to crack under the intensity of it, Mick's phone rang, offering him a brief reprieve. Without looking at it, Mick reached into his pocket, pressed a button, and the ringing stopped.

"So why won't you give me a DNA sample and prove it?"

Mick flashed him a wry smile. "Think me old-fashioned if you will, but I like my privacy, _and _I think a good man's word should still count for something. I am not injured—and hey, I offered you immediate visual verification, but you refused."

"Hmm." Carl grunted.

The phone started to ring again. Mick rolled his eyes and took it out of his pocket. He scowled at the display, then at Carl. "I have to take this. Excuse me a moment—I'll be right back."

Carl nodded, but Mick had already answered and was walking rapidly to his office.

The second Mick shut the door, Carl eyed the glass of single malt on the table. _Better not take that—he might miss it too quickly. _He jumped up from his seat and walked quickly over to the kitchen, looking for something, anything, that might have DNA on it. Luck was on his side—there was a lone glass sitting in the sink. It had been rinsed, but not well; like Mick had sprayed a little water in there, dumped it out, and set the glass in the sink to wash properly later. There appeared to be the diluted remnants of some sort of red juice at the bottom. Carl carefully picked up the glass with a tissue from his pocket and hastened back to the couch. He quickly opened his kit, removing some of the contents and shoving them into the interior pockets of his jacket to make room for the glass. He had just shut the kit and settled back into the couch when Mick's office door opened.

Carl had crossed his legs and was casually drumming his fingers on his knee when Mick reclaimed his seat—and his single malt. Carl mentally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sorry about that, Carl. Look, are we done here? I have some work I need to do."

Carl stood up, willing his face not to twitch when he heard some of the wrapped swabs and other sundries crinkle in his pocket. "Yeah, we're done for now. But we'll be in touch."

Mick raised a wary eyebrow, but followed him to the door. "I understand you don't like to leave loose ends, Carl. Neither do I. Go talk to Beth if you want. She can confirm—I was not injured that night."

"Fine. Maybe I'll do that."

"Okay." Before Carl could even blink, Mick had put a hand on his shoulder and propelled him swiftly through the door and into the hallway. "You have a nice day, Carl."

Carl blinked and stumbled toward the elevator. _Damn, that guy is fast _and _strong_. _No wonder he got the jump on three ex-cons. _


	6. Chapter 5

Beta: Much thanks and appreciation goes to my superbeta, Barb (Bank1115). She's awesome. This story wouldn't be where it is without her.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 5**

Josh was putting away the leftovers of the chicken dish he'd made for dinner when he heard Beth's cell ring in the living room.

"Beth?" he called down the hall to the bathroom. "Your phone!"

He listened a moment, then heard the shower running. He shrugged and went to look at her phone. Mick St. John. He frowned, but decided to answer it.

"Hello?"

"_Uh, hi—Josh?—is Beth there?_"

"Yeah, but she's in the shower."

"_Oh—well, I was just calling to see how she was—you know, after last night._"

"Yeah, that must've been pretty crazy, huh. Glad you're okay, and Julia."

"_Yeah, thanks, man. And thanks again for getting that statement released. That made it all possible._"

"Glad I could help."

"_So, um, can you maybe just ask Beth to give me a call when she gets out?_"

"Sure. No problem." Josh touched the screen to end the call. He tapped the phone against his leg a few times, then put it back on the coffee table.

He was on his way back to the kitchen when his phone rang. "Well…I bet _that's_ not Mick St. John," he snorted to himself.

"Lindsey," he answered curtly.

"_Yeah, Josh, it's Carl Davis. Are you at Beth's place?_"

"Yeah, why?"

"_Would now be a good time for me to drop by and ask her a few questions? It's about St. John_."

"Yeah, sure that's fine. She's in the shower, but she should be out by the time you get here." Josh frowned. "You know, he just called a minute ago for her."

"_Really_._ Well, that's interesting, because I just left St. John's place. He refused to give me a DNA sample and suggested that Beth could confirm he wasn't injured that night_."

"His timing is certainly interesting, isn't it? Well, I'll make sure she doesn't talk to him before you get here."

"_Yeah, good, thanks. Man, I gotta tell you—that guy had me a little nervous_."

"Why?" Josh's heart started pounding a little.

"_He's got this intense stare, and…I dunno. After he'd refused the DNA sample, he got a phone call he had to take in his office. I found a glass in his sink and took it for analysis. There's no way he could have known I took it, but I swear, he knew I had been up to something while he was in the other room._"

Josh heard the shower stop. "Hey—I think Beth's getting out of the shower. I'll see you when you get here." He quickly disconnected the call.

He threw himself down on the sofa and grabbed a book just moments before he heard the bathroom door open and Beth came wandering down the hall in her pyjamas.

"I decided I'm just gonna veg out in front of the TV tonight," she grinned. "Maybe watch Pride and Prejudice…again… Care to join me?"

"Again?" Josh rolled his eyes, but returned her smile until he saw her glance in the direction of her phone and said quickly, "Oh, but Beth, Carl Davis just called. He's gonna come by in a few minutes. Needs to ask you a couple more questions."

"Oh. Okay...I'll just go put on my robe."

A few minutes later, Josh ushered Carl to a seat facing the couch and sat down beside Beth.

"Beth, are you absolutely positive that Lee Jay did not shoot Mick St. John?" Carl began.

"Well, I know he shot _at_ him, but as for shooting him successfully, no, he didn't. I _think_ I would have noticed if Mick had blood all over him." She smiled.

"Is it possible he was wearing Kevlar?"

"No, because then there still would have been bruising from the impact, wouldn't there?"

"Yeah. But unless you have X-ray vision…" Carl tapped his notebook with his pen.

"Oh, I saw him without a shirt on. No wounds, no bruises."

"You saw Mick without a shirt on?" Josh blurted out.

"Oh…yeah, sorry. I went by his place for a little while, to see how he was. It was then he realized that he didn't smell so good, so he grabbed a clean shirt from a laundry basket that was nearby and changed right there."

"Do you think he changed in front of you on purpose?"

Beth stared at Carl. "What kind of question is that?!"

"He offered to do that for me, too."

"Um, what?"

"Oh—to, you know, prove he didn't have any injuries." Carl reddened slightly.

Beth cocked an eyebrow. "Okay…so? What are you suspecting, he spontaneously healed and is trying to keep it secret by showing everyone how _not_ injured he is?" She pursed her lips, seeming amused.

Carl bristled. "Well, no, of course not. I'm just trying to tie up some loose ends," he grumbled. "We found unidentified blood spatter at the scene that didn't match any of the deceased or the victim."

"I see…" Beth crossed her arms. "And you think it's Mick's?"

"Well, it's not yours, is it?"

"No, of course not. Nobody touched me."

"And Mick took out three guys without getting a scratch?"

Beth shrugged. "Apparently."

"Are you trying to cover up for him? Did he threaten you?"

"No, of course not!" Beth cried, sitting up straight. "Why would he do that, after saving my life only a couple weeks ago?"

"I don't know. Look, I'm just asking questions, Beth."

"Right…" She flopped against the back of the couch.

"Wait a minute—" Carl held up a hand. Something had just occurred to him. "What does Mick drive?"

"A Benz…" Beth trailed off, puzzled. "Why?"

"The same one I saw you standing by the other night?"

"Yeah…I drove it back to his place after I gave you my statement…that was when he changed his shirt…" Beth started nibbling on her bottom lip.

"You didn't mention this before. So then, how did Mick get home? The first radio car must've been on scene within minutes of it all going down."

Beth shifted slightly in her seat. "I'm not sure, actually. I kinda hung around Julia as much as I could. I thought I saw him on the phone with somebody, though, so maybe he called a cab…or a friend. Next time I looked, he was gone." She shrugged.

"So how did you get his car keys?"

"Oh—um, well, he gave them to me when he left me to wait in the car."

"So instead of taking _his own car_ when you ordered him to go home, he just, what, called a cab…or something?" Carl raised his brow skeptically.

"Well, I—I still had his keys, and I guess he didn't want to strand me there, since I was staying to give his statement…" Beth trailed off weakly.

"Okay," Carl drawled slowly. "Thanks, Beth."

"Sure thing…" Beth nodded. Then she smiled brightly. "Is that all?"

"Yeah, I guess. For now."

"Look, Carl—you know me. You know I can smell a story from a mile away. I just can't see where you're trying to go with this."

Carl nodded. "Like I said, Beth, just trying to tie up some loose ends." He stood and shook hands with Josh. "You two have a good night, okay?"

Josh walked Carl to the door. "Call me when you have something," he whispered. Carl nodded.

When Josh shut the door and turned back to the living room, he saw Beth scowling at her phone.

"Josh, did my phone ring while I was in the shower?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, sorry—it was Mick. I answered it, he was just calling to see how you were. I told him you'd call him later."

"Thanks," Beth smiled grimly down at the phone.

Josh moved closer to her. "—Something the matter?"

She looked up. "What?" Oh, no—nothing's wrong. I'm just tired. I think I'll forego the movie and head to bed. I can call Mick tomorrow." Josh noticed her slip the phone into the pocket of her robe as she stood and rose on her tiptoes to kiss him goodnight.

"I'll be in in a little while. Good night, Beth."

She smiled at him and left the room. He watched her saunter down the hall into the bedroom, shutting the door tightly behind her.

"Call him tomorrow, huh?" he mumbled.


	7. Chapter 6

Author's note: Again, I've tried to be at least somewhat accurate in terms of forensics...but…I'm no expert. If anyone knowledgeable notices anything that's a little far-fetched or is completely inaccurate, please let me know.

Beta: Much thanks and appreciation goes to my superbeta, Barb (Bank1115). She's awesome. This story wouldn't be where it is without her.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 6**

Carl wanted as few people involved as possible, so he waited until just after lunchtime the next day to visit the lab, when he knew Sam would be working.

"Sammy—got a sample for comparison. Need you to collect and prep it for me. Rush," Carl looked pointedly at him as he placed the bagged glass in front of him on the table.

"Yes, sir." Sam responded and immediately but cautiously removed the glass from the evidence baggie. He grabbed a swab from a nearby container and pulled his lamp down to closely examine the glass.

Carl watched him work for a moment. "Don't log it in as evidence," he lowered his voice. "I couldn't get it through proper channels." Sam glanced up at him sharply, but Carl ignored it and said, louder, "I'll come back for it later. I have a few things to do in house before I head over to BioAnalysis."

Sam shrugged. "You got it, Lieutenant," he mumbled, his tongue sticking out from between his teeth while he carefully ran the swab around the inside and outside of the rim.

* * *

Carl didn't officially start his shift for a few hours, but this "inquiry" was barely official as it was. Luckily, Josh had arranged it so that he reported directly to him.

He to his desk and pulled out his keyboard. He looked up every single cab company in LA and called them all. Frustrated, he slammed down the phone a couple hours later. There'd been only a handful of pickups in that particular neighbourhood on that night, and he'd talked to each cabbie. No one remembered anyone matching Mick's description.

He rubbed his forehead and drummed his fingers on his desk. A moment later, he had an idea. _It's a long-shot, but…_

He looked up the officers who had responded to the Spalding call. He began with Officers MacCallum and Johnson, whose regular route was that part of the warehouse district. They were on duty tonight; he had them called to his desk before they drove out for the night.

"You wanted to see us, Lieutenant Davis?" Officer MacCallum sat down in front of the desk, while her partner stood behind her.

"Yes—three nights ago, your beat in the warehouse district…"

"Yeah?"

"Before you were called out to the Spalding scene, did you notice anything out of the ordinary?"

MacCallum furrowed her brow and looked up at her partner. "Naw, I don't think so—it was pretty routine, right, Steve?"

He nodded his agreement. "Yeah, we broke up a fight, busted a junkie, that kind of thing."

"…Suspicious vehicles?"

MacCallum shook her head. "No, sir."

Carl was disappointed. He waved them on. "Okay, thanks."

MacCallum stood and turned to go. Suddenly she snapped her fingers. "Wait!"

Carl's head shot up, but MacCallum was looking at her partner. "Steve—wasn't that the night you were drooling all over that Ferrari?"

Officer Johnson's eyes lit up. "Ooh, yeah, that baby was _niiiice_," he groaned. "But I don't know why anyone in their right mind would drive it down to that hood, especially at night."

"You get a plate?"

MacCallum shook her head ruefully. "Didn't really bother to look, sir—it was parked legally, and then soon after the call came in to go to the warehouse, so—"

"I remember a partial, Lieutenant," Johnson interjected. "3SBJ. My initials."

Carl flashed him a big grin. "Bless your mother, Johnson. You may have just given me a lead."

MacCallum looked questioningly at Carl, but he was already typing on his computer.

Without looking up, he waved them away. "Good work. Dismissed."

The officers looked at each other and shrugged. "Thanks, Lieutenant."

* * *

Of the handful of Ferraris registered in LA, only one licence plate contained 3SBJ. Surprise registered on Carl's face.

"Josef Kostan, the big-shot hedge fund trader? Ooh, things are getting interesting…"

He was grabbing his jacket when his phone rang. "Davis," he barked impatiently.

"Lieutenant, it's Sam. You may want to come over to the lab right away."

Carl heard a click and then the dial tone. He stared at the receiver for a moment. "What the—"

Muttering, he strode into the lab fifteen minutes later. "All right, Sam—what's going on? What was with the mysterious phone call routine? I said I'd come by for the sample later."

"I analyzed the trace liquid in the glass."

Carl's brow furrowed. "Oh. That was hardly necessary."

The lab tech shrugged. "I was curious about Mutant DNA guy's palate—if this turns out to be his glass, of course. But I think you'll thank me for my inquisitiveness—either that, or curse me."

Carl's brows shot up. "You have my attention, Samuel. Found something off?"

"Gross and creepy is more like it."

Carl's eyes widened. "It wasn't just juice?"

"Nope. Not juice at all." The lab tech lowered his voice. "It was blood."

"Blood?!…Animal?"

"Oh, yeah, it was animal all right—the _human _kind."

Carl scrunched up his nose. "…It wasn't like the mutated blood we found before?"

"No, it appears to be normal; it reacted properly to the antigen-antibody test, unlike the mutated blood. No traces of silver, either."

"Geez. Okay, prep me a sample of that, too. I'll take them both at the same time."

Sam handed him two specialized containers. "Way ahead of you, Lieutenant."

"Thanks, man. I owe you." Carl turned to go.

"Will you—" he hesitated a moment. "Will you let me know what comes of this?

"I'll do my best." Carl strode out of the lab shaking his head. "Weird blood and normal blood, in places they don't belong—geez..."

* * *

Without realizing it, Carl barged into the third floor lab, foregoing all the usual greetings and began barking orders to his friend.

"Got two samples for you to analyze. One for comparison with the…weird…one. The other is normal, but I need it analyzed so I can have it run through CODIS." He finally slowed down to take a breath. "Oh, and this is Stat—Rush—ASAP—_whatever_ you people use."

The DNA tech winked at him. "As it happens, I understand all three. Leave it to me. Oh, by the way—hello, Carl. How are you?"

He flashed her a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Maizie. Hi. I'm…okay, under the circumstances…just a little confused… I'm about to go ask a multi-millionaire just how stupid he has to be to park his Ferrari in the warehouse district at night. You?"

"Is he your mutant suspect?" When Carl shook his head, she continued, "I don't have anything definitive for you yet on the abnormal sample. Because it's unusual, it's taking longer to sequence. I can tell you it does appear to have similarities with human DNA, but it's definitely not animal—so I guess you can rule out werewolves."

"_Werewolves_?!" Carl's eyebrows shot up.

Maizie shrugged. "I was watching the Sci-Fi channel last night…some movie about werewolves. Silver's deadly to them, that's what made me think of it."

"Well, there haven't been any recent maulings, so I think we can rule that out, yeah," Carl drawled sarcastically. "Oh—that, and werewolves don't exist."

"Be careful what you say to me, Carl. Once I finish up this project of yours, perhaps I'll try to create one, just to prove you wrong."

"You _would _do that, wouldn't you? Just to prove me wrong, and screw the consequences." He shook his head. "I hope Frankenstein is on tonight."

Maizie didn't bother to hide her grin. "Anyway, now that I have something for comparison, I'll try to confirm your mutant friend's identity for you."

He nodded his thanks.

She indicated one of the samples Carl had brought. "What makes you think this guy might be the mutant?"

"I don't want to influence you just yet. That, and I don't actually have anything concrete that might help you," he admitted sheepishly. Then he frowned. "I'm not even sure if I want to be right or if I don't."

"Can't help you there—I'm a scientist. I just want to study this guy, whoever who he is. Because I've never seen anything like his DNA."

"If the opportunity arises, Maizie, I'll let you have first crack at him."


	8. Chapter 7

Beta: Much thanks and appreciation goes to my superbeta, Barb (Bank1115). She's awesome. This story wouldn't be where it is without her.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 7**

Carl gazed appreciatively at the blonde behind the desk in the lobby of Kostan Industries as she quietly made her inquiry to the upstairs.

Finally she pressed the button to disconnect the call and turned back to him. "I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Kostan won't be in for several hours."

Carl frowned. "It's five o'clock and he's not coming in for hours?"

"That's right, sir."

"Is that normal?"

The blonde nodded. "He deals with a lot of overseas clients."

Carl sighed. "Fine. I'll come back later. Thank you." He flashed her a smile and walked away.

At nine o'clock, Carl entered the lobby of the Kostan Industries building for the second time that day. He was a little disappointed to find a redhead at the desk instead of the blonde, but she was a looker too, so who was he to complain?

Carl flashed his badge. "Lieutenant Carl Davis, LAPD. I need to speak to Mr. Kostan. I understand he should be here at this time?"

The redhead hesitated. "He's here, but I believe he is in important meetings all evening. I heard him say on his way in that he was not to be disturbed."

Carl casually tapped his badge on the counter. The redhead eyed it, biting her lip, but stood her ground. "Mr. Kostan said he was not to be disturbed."

"I'm not planning on disturbing him. I just need to ask him a few questions."

He saw the redhead's jaw twitch slightly before she sighed loudly. "I'll inquire if he can spare a moment for you, Lieutenant."

"Thank you."

"Marie, I have a police detective insisting on speaking with Mr. Kostan……Yes, I know; I told him that." She glared slightly at Carl, who looked away in order to roll his eyes. He definitely preferred the blonde.

The redhead listened for another moment, then said, "Okay, I'll tell him." She pressed the disconnect button with a carefully manicured nail. "Mr. Kostan wonders if you might come back tomorrow evening at 8:30. He'd be happy to talk to you then."

Carl's jaw tightened. "Fine. Make sure I'm written into his appointment book—_in ink_."

"Yes sir, thank you. Have a good evening," the redhead said cheerfully.

Carl scowled in response. Before he left, he took note of the redhead's first and last name from her nametag. _Let's find out if you have any unpaid parking tickets, Red…_

* * *

Carl was annoyed. The redhead's record was spotless. _Who doesn't have any unpaid parking tickets_?! He had just closed the search window, and opened another one when his phone rang.

"Davis," he barked impatiently.

"_Carl, it's Josh._" He sounded a little annoyed.

"Oh, Josh, hey." Carl nearly smacked himself in the forehead. With all the weird stuff going on in the investigation, he'd forgotten he was supposed to be keeping Josh updated.

"_I haven't heard from you since you came to Beth's, and even then I was a little out of the loop. I'd like to know what's going on._"

"Yeah, so would I."

"_Huh_?"

"You'll understand soon enough. Do you have some time now? I can come by your office and bring you up to speed."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Carl was closing the door to Josh's office firmly behind him. Josh looked at him expectantly from behind his desk.

Carl gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, man—I've been so caught up in this thing, I forgot I should be keeping you up to date." With a huge sigh, he sat in the chair by Josh's desk. "When you hear all I have to tell you, you'll understand."

Josh leaned forward, really curious now. "I'm all ears."

"I'll start from the beginning—the fingerprints. They weren't where they should be, and were where they shouldn't be."

Josh raised an eyebrow.

"According to the forensics report, Mick's prints weren't anywhere on the door to the warehouse."

"Okay, I guess that's a little strange, but it doesn't necessarily mean anything. He could have worn gloves or used his sleeve or something. Though I don't know why he'd be trying to hide his prints…"

"Precisely what I thought. But then I thought about Julia Stevens's statement…"

Josh let out a bark of laughter. "What, that Mick jumped down from the rafters?"

"_Exactly_."

Josh was silent for a moment. Then, he said, "So, what, you're telling me that he did?"

"I can't find any other explanation for finding his fingerprints on the latch to a window up on the roof."

"Okay, so he got up there—"

"I don't know how—there's no way up from the outside, and he sure didn't go up there from the inside like I did."

Josh was silent again.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking—what the hell, right? Well, it gets weirder."

Josh's eyes widened.

"There was _another_ set of prints on that window latch. And they matched a set we found on the _inside_ of the door to the warehouse."

Josh held up a hand. "So what, you're telling me that not only did St. John show up in that warehouse via the roof, but some other guy did too?!"

"Apparently."

"But who? Beth didn't mention anyone else being there."

Carl shook his head. "Unless she didn't know…or is lying," he added more softly.

Josh grimaced. "At this point, I don't know what to think. She's shutting me out."

Carl didn't know what to say to that, so he continued. "And then there's the blood…"

Josh looked tired. "Yeah, that you thought might be Mick's?"

"Yeah, given Julia Steven's statement that Lee Jay shot him…"

"—A statement which now seems a lot more plausible, given the fingerprints…" Josh nodded slowly.

"Exactly. But my guy in the lab, Sam, said it didn't register as either human or animal blood."

Josh blinked. "So what was it then? Synthetic?"

"That's what I thought, but no—it's all organic, with traces of silver, of all things. I took it to BioAnalysis for DNA sequencing."

"And?"

"That's why I got the sample from Mick, to compare. I should get the results soon. If Maizie can match it to St. John...."

"…Then it's his blood…and he's, what, not human?! That's impossible…Maybe there's just something wrong with his blood that caused the initial test not to acknowledge it was human."

Carl was quiet. "But then how do you explain all the other stuff? The fact that his fingerprints were on the roof…the fact that maybe he was shot, but appears to be fine…the fact that he disappeared before we showed up and—the other guy! Maybe he's how Mick got home!"

Josh's brows shot up. "Why not? Makes sense…"

"If that's the case, I may have a lead on it. It's pretty far-fetched, but so's everything else so far in this case."

"Well?"

"Some of my officers spotted a Ferrari parked in the area that night—a little out of place in that hood; the officer who was drooling over it remembered a partial plate…"

"Well, Ferraris aren't too common, even in LA, and with a partial plate…you must know who it belongs to."

"Yeah," Carl snorted. "You won't believe it, either—does the name Kostan ring any bells?"

"Kostan? Who—what—wait, Josef Kostan, the big time hedge fund trader?! Are you kidding me?!"

"Nope. I went by his office today to question him but got the runaround. I have an appointment for tomorrow evening, though. …He'd better not be 'busy' again."

"Huh. I can't see why he'd be involved, though."

"Yeah, well, maybe I can find out tonight." Just then Carl's phone vibrated in his pocket. He flipped it open and read the message. "It's a text from Maizie…she wants me to get over there ASAP. I guess the results are back." He looked up at Josh.

"Go. And this time, CALL ME."

"Will do." Carl threw Josh one last look of trepidation before he left his office.


	9. Chapter 8

Beta: Much thanks and appreciation goes to my superbeta, Barb (Bank1115). She's awesome. This story wouldn't be where it is without her.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 8**

"So, Maizie—what's the verdict? What is Mutant DNA guy?"

"Well, you can go ask Mutant DNA guy yourself, because you know him. The DNA samples from the glass rim and the blood on the floor are a match."

Carl blew out the deep breath he'd been holding.

"I think it's time you told me about this guy," Maizie looked at him pointedly. "What's so unusual about him?"

Carl pulled up a stool. "He had a beef with a convicted murderer who just got out of prison after 25 years. Apparently his father, who was a PI like…well, we'll call him Mutant DNA Guy, had helped put this guy away."

"The Lee Jay Spalding case—I saw that on the news! —The PI—Mick St. John, yeah?—he's Mutant DNA Guy?!" She leaned forward eagerly.

Carl sighed. "Apparently. Looks normal enough, doesn't he?"

"Honey, he looks better than _normal_."

Carl rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Don't tell me that he has an extra good-looking gene, and is therefore too good-looking to be human."

Maizie smirked. "I didn't say that. As of yet, I can't identify his genetic anomalies. I'm hoping you can give me some hints."

"Well, he's stronger and quicker than he looks. And I found his fingerprints on the roof of a warehouse—and can't explain how they got there. I know for a fact he didn't use the stairs like I did."

"Okay, so, what—you think he flew?" Maizie cocked an eyebrow.

Carl glared at her. "You tell me, Miss Scientist."

"Okay, okay—what else?"

"Well…now that we know the blood spatter was his, it contradicts his statement that he was not shot—though he offered to take his shirt off to prove he wasn't. I don't know what to make of it."

Maizie's eyes widened. "Whoa...are you _sure_ he's not a werewolf?"

"Well, you're starting to make me wonder!" Carl said, only half joking. "Besides, I thought you already ruled them out."

"Yeah," Maizie sighed. "That would have been cool though, wouldn't it?" Then she started getting excited. "Maybe he's some secret government experiment—a bionic man! That's a little more plausible."

"Hmm," Carl grunted.

"By the way, I emailed the DNA profile for the normal blood to Sam at your lab. He should be running it through CODIS as we speak—well, as long as he checks his email frequently. In the meantime, I'll keep studying St. John's DNA."

* * *

After leaving BioAnalysis, Carl got a cochinita pibil to go and took a drive along the coast. He needed to think.

But just as he got out on the highway, his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a message from Sam.

Carl immediately did a U-turn and floored it. Twelve minutes later, he entered the lab, breathing unevenly. Sam was waiting for him.

"Lieutenant—got a match in CODIS for the blood in the glass, based on the DNA profile BioAnalysis sent over."

Carl looked at him expectantly.

Sam took a deep breath. "The trace blood in the glass came from a deceased ex-con, a Willis Lee. He was discovered in an alley a week ago, two gunshots to the head. Coroner removed the bullets. They got a match in IBIS, linked it to a gun belonging to one of his gang rivals, Markus Little. Little is now in custody awaiting trial for first-degree murder."

"So how the hell did some of Lee's blood get inside a drinking glass a week after his death—and _why_?!" Carl exclaimed, starting to pace.

Sam shrugged. "I have no frickin' idea." His eyes followed Carl as he wore an invisible path in the floor. "Do you have any ideas, Lieutenant?"

But Carl barely responded with a shake of his head. He abruptly exited the lab in a daze; ignoring Sam's repeated calling of his name.

_What the hell are you, Mick St. John?_

* * *

Josh looked up, startled, as a pair of hands suddenly slammed themselves on top of his desk.

"Josh. It _was_ St. John's blood at that warehouse." Carl was breathing hard.

"You're kidding."

The lieutenant shook his head.

Josh exhaled. "So what do we do?"

"Damned if I know," Carl plopped into the chair in front of the desk. "Damned if I know."

Josh frowned suddenly. "Beth lied. She _lied_—to you, and to me. Right to our faces. She said Mick wasn't injured."

"Maybe she didn't know—she only saw him without a shirt, right? Maybe he was injured elsewhere?" Carl mused.

"I know where I'd like to see him injured," Josh said darkly.

Carl shook his head. "It doesn't make sense, anyway—no matter where he was injured, she would have seen blood on his clothes. This wasn't a paper cut."

"So maybe he was shot, and Beth knows. She lied—there's no other explanation, Carl!" Josh slammed his hand on the desk and whirled around in his chair to face the wall, his shoulders slumped.

"He was shot, got up, and avoided the ambulance and cops on the way? But there's another thing that doesn't make sense—Mick offered to strip down for me, to prove he wasn't injured. Why would he do that unless he knew I wouldn't see anything?"

Josh turned his chair back around. "Bluffing? He's cocky enough."

"Why would he take the risk? Cops get suspects to strip down all the time for forensics to examine them. He definitely didn't want us to have his DNA, though—and now we know why."

"There's something Beth's not telling me—I know it. I don't like this, Carl. This guy's gotten to her somehow. He's covering something up, and he's dragged her into it."

"Yeah…Josh…there's something else I haven't told you about yet."

Josh raised his eyebrow expectantly.

"I didn't tell you about it before, because it was…well, it was flippin' weird," Carl ran a restless hand over his head. "And I couldn't explain it. And now…it's even weirder. And I still can't explain it."

Josh sat forward. "What is it?"

"That glass I took from St. John's apartment for the DNA sample…he hadn't rinsed it properly and there were traces of red juice—well, what I thought was red juice—in it still," Carl blew out a shaky breath. "I didn't ask him to, but Sam analyzed it."

Josh's eyes were wide with anticipation. "—And?"

"It wasn't juice. It was human blood."

Josh stared at Carl. "What?"

"It was human blood."

"Yeah, I heard you," Josh waved him off testily. "Why the hell would Mick St. John have human blood in a _drinking glass_?!"

"Hell if I know," Carl answered. "It belongs to a gang-banger who was shot dead by one of his rivals the week before it ended up in St. John's…glass."

"Okay, so now it's not only _Why_, but _How_?"

Carl shrugged. "Body went through the morgue…"

"So either he snuck in or has a friend?"

"Does it matter? We can't really check it out; there are no cameras down there."

"Since when?!"

Carl shrugged. "Budget cuts." At Josh's dark look, he added, "How's really not as important as why, anyway…"

Josh snapped his fingers. "Beth met Mick during that college blood cult case…Ellis and his followers drank blood…perhaps Mick being on that case wasn't a coincidence."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe he's part of some secret society that drinks blood and does who knows what else."

Carl raised an eyebrow. "Josh, I never had you down for a conspiracy theorist. Besides, why would a secret society care about Ellis and his merry little band of Goths?"

"Bad press? _You_ explain the blood in the glass, then."

Carl thought for a moment then slapped his knee. "Okay—back in my day at the academy, I remember reading some case studies about a couple of serial killers who drank the blood of their victims. Mick could be a serial killer with a seriously disturbing fetish." He shuddered.

"And Lee Jay would have discovered this how?"

Carl shrugged. "Takes one to know one?"

Josh shook his head. "It doesn't explain why Lee Jay was so bent on revenge against St. John."

"It does more than your secret blood society theory."

"Oh. You have a point."

Carl allowed the corners of his lips to turn up in triumph before another thought came to him. "Maybe Mick only kills serial killers himself, and Lee Jay was the one acting in self-defence."

Josh stared at him. "Are you nuts? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"

Carl shrugged.

"You didn't hear that phone call. Lee Jay was _not_ acting in self-defence. He definitely had a vendetta."

"All right, whatever. It was a thought." He frowned suddenly. "It also doesn't explain the mutant DNA or the fingerprints on the roof."

"What _does_?!"

The two men were at a loss.


	10. Chapter 9

Beta: As usual, much thanks goes to the ever-awesome Barb, Bank1115. She is absolutely indispensable. Seriously. You wouldn't be reading this story without her. Give her a round of applause!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 9**

At 8:25pm, Carl walked into Kostan Industries. The redhead was behind the desk again, but to his surprise, she smiled at him and said, "Go right on up, Lieutenant Davis. Top floor."

"Thank you," Carl furrowed his brow in puzzlement and walked on to the elevator.

He watched the digital display as the numbers crept higher and higher the farther up the elevator rose. Finally, at 25, the elevator doors opened rapidly with a ding.

A man stepped quickly aside when Carl exited the elevator. A striking brunette tottered beside him, leaning heavily onto his shoulder.

Carl cocked an eyebrow. "She all right?" he inquired of the man, gesturing to the girl.

The man gave Carl a curt nod. "She's not feeling very well. Mr. Kostan asked me to drive her home."

"Huh," Carl grunted, watching the man as he gently guided the girl onto the elevator. _Odd places he may take his car, but I guess you can't say the guy doesn't take care of his employees_…

He turned around again only to find himself facing yet another reception desk with yet another attractive woman. He sighed. "I'm Lieutenant—"

"—Carl Davis," a male voice finished.

Carl turned at the sound to see a surprisingly young man in a business suit walking towards him, hand outstretched. His eyes bored into Carl's.

"Josef Kostan. My apologies for not being able to meet with you yesterday evening. I trust it wasn't too much of an inconvenience?"

Carl shook the proffered hand. "No…not too much." He eyed the other man warily. "You're lucky it wasn't urgent." _You have some balls, Kostan__._

"Yes, well, I assumed you weren't here to arrest me."

"You're correct, at least at this point."

Josef raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he smirked.

Carl ignored him. "Is there some place private where we can talk? I need to ask you a few questions."

"Of course, my office. Right this way." Josef led Carl down the hall and stopped before an ornate door. He gestured for Carl to enter before him, then shut the door behind them. "Please take a seat. Can I offer you a drink?"

"No, thank you. On the clock."

"Right. Of course. _You_ never break the rules."

Carl looked at Josef sharply, but he smiled sunnily as though he hadn't been implying anything by that remark. Carl wasn't sure what to think, so he let it slide and flipped open his notebook to have the pretense of looking at something.

"Mr. Kostan, it's my understanding that you drive a red Ferrari, plate number 3SBJ408?"

"Among other things, yes."

"Your Ferrari was seen parked in the warehouse district four nights ago. Can you explain this?"

"Yes. I was driving my car in the warehouse district four nights ago, when I pulled over, hit the brakes, and put the car in park."

Carl stopped writing. "Smartass punk…" he muttered under his breath, still looking down at his notebook.

Josef grinned. "I'm smart, and, I've been told, a bit of an ass—but I've never been a punk. Get your facts straight…_Detective_."

Carl looked up sharply. _He heard that?! —How__?! _He was uneasy, but decided to shrug it off and move on. "Why were you in the warehouse district four nights ago?"

"I have property down there."

"What's the address of this property?"

"Why—are you in the market for a nice warehouse? Jails getting too overcrowded?" Josef smirked. He was leaning back in his chair, arms resting behind his head.

Carl threw his notebook down in his lap. "Look, this isn't a game, Kostan."

Suddenly Josef sat forward. His eyes burned into Carl's. "I am well aware of that, Lieutenant—are _you_?"

Carl started sweating under his collar. _This guy's got the same intense stare as St. John__. _He ran a finger in between his collar and his neck. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Josef sat back. "Just what are you investigating here, Lieutenant? Perhaps I could be of more assistance to you if I knew—did I commit some terrible parking faux pas?"

"Other than parking a very expensive vehicle in a high crime district at night? No."

Josef raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I'm checking out a witness's story. He left his car behind at a crime scene. I want to know how he got home."

"And this involves me how?"

"I thought your car might have been the getaway vehicle."

"For your mysterious witness? I thought only criminals made getaways."

Carl pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you know a Mick St. John?"

"I may have a friend who goes by that name."

Carl cocked a brow.

"Yes," Josef acknowledged.

"Did you meet up with him in the warehouse district four nights ago?"

"Look, what's this really about, Lieutenant? Granted, most of the stuff I know about cops comes from TV shows, but I'm fairly sure they don't investigate witness's modes of transportation unless they don't really believe the witness is innocent—do they?"

"In claims of self-defence, we have to investigate."

"So you don't actually consider Mick a witness then…because self-defence would require participation, not observation."

Carl acknowledged that was true.

"So let me get this straight—a known murderer lures my friend to a dark and creepy warehouse with obvious intent-to-kill, and you come to the conclusion that it must not have been self-defence?"

"Ah, so you _do_ know why I'm here."

Josef smirked slightly. "Poker, Lieutenant. Never tip your hand."

Carl tilted his head in acknowledgement. _Just like I'm not tipping mine—yet. Especially since now we're getting somewhere__._ "Look, I didn't say it wasn't self-defence. I'm sure it probably was. But we still have to have all the ducks in a row before we close the case. If Mick did get shot, it would actually make things easier. I don't understand why he'd deny it if he did."

Josef's face darkened and he slammed his hands on the desk. "Lee Jay Spalding was a danger to my friend and the community. He needed to die. Do _you_ deny _that_?"

"No. But the state prefers to take care of things themselves. Look, were you there or not?"

"Fine—you got me." Josef held out his wrists. "Spank me, officer."

Carl reined in the urge to roll his eyes and smack the kid upside the head. "For what, exactly?"

"Mick called me, said he was going to go save Julia from Lee Jay. I said, 'Mick, that's incredibly stupid. Let the police do it.' But I knew he'd go anyway. I went down there to see if I could find them and keep my buddy out of trouble, only to find he'd already taken care of everything. But friends don't let friends drive when someone that just tried to kill them is killed. It's rather draining physically and emotionally, you know, and not at all conducive to safe driving. So I took him home and let Beth have the drive of her life in a classic Benz."

"That's all I wanted to know." _For now_… "Thank you for your time, Mr. Kostan."

"Always glad to assist those who serve and protect—oh, wait…weren't you the ones that let Lee Jay run around trying to kill people?"

Carl scowled at him.

With a smirk, Josef held out his wrists again.

Carl clenched his jaw. "I'll just show myself out."

Josef nodded pleasantly and watched him walk toward the door. "—Oh, Lieutenant Davis?"

Carl turned back with a sigh.

"When you're done chasing imaginary conspiracy theories, Mick would like his glass back."

Carl swallowed. "Pardon me?"

"You know what I'm talking about." Josef casually tossed the file folder he'd been playing with down on his desk and rose. "You're not a stupid man…are you, Lieutenant Davis?"

Carl mumbled a negative.

"You—illegally, I might add—took a drinking glass from my friend's apartment."

"Why would I take a glass from Mick's apartment?" Carl hedged.

"Oh, I don't know…perhaps you developed a little crush on him, and just wanted something to remember him by? —No?— Or maybe it could have had something to do with the unnecessary DNA sample you requested of him and he refused?"

Carl's mouth went dry.

"What are you trying to prove, Lieutenant?" Josef stepped out from behind the desk and took a few steps toward him, his eyes never leaving his.

Carl tried to swallow. "There was blood spatter at the crime scene. An eyewitness saw Mick get shot, but he denied it. The blood could not match anyone else's there."

"And you think DNA from a drinking glass—again, that you illegally obtained, and that Mick didn't necessarily even drink out of—will prove that the blood is Mick's?"

Carl started. "What?"

"Did you see Mick drink out of the glass you took?"

"Well…no…" Carl's brow furrowed. "But it was in his sink."

"Therefore he's the only one whose DNA could be on it? Boy…remind me never to come over to your place for poker night. Evidently you never serve your guests refreshments."

Carl gaped at him.

"Geez, what kind of logic are they teaching at the police academy? Did you take Pig Latin for your language requirement?"

Carl's fingers curled into a fist. _If I could arrest stupid punks for talking back to me…this guy'd be in for life__._

"In case you're still not picking up what I'm putting down," Josef continued, "testing the DNA on that glass would be a _waste of time_." Once again, Josef's eyes bored into his. "—G_ot it_?"

Carl nodded and stood, just wanting to get out of there. He could feel Kostan's eyes on the back of his neck as he strode quickly out of the office and down the hall into the elevator.

He also had the vague notion he'd just been threatened.


	11. Chapter 10

Author's note: I'm bored, so I'm posting this chapter a bit early. Sorry. ;)

Beta: As usual, much thanks goes to the ever-awesome Barb, Bank1115. She's so awesome.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 10**

Carl got into his car and was on the phone before he'd even left the Kostan Industries lot.

"Josh. Whatever's up with Mick, Kostan's in on it."

"_Kostan? Are you absolutely sure_?!"

"Yeah. And I think he threatened me, too."

"_Okay, Carl, slow down—you'd better come over and tell me everything_."

Carl agreed and hung up. Something was bothering him about Josef's statement. He was a little puzzled by the passivity of, '_Friends don't let friends drive when someone that just tried to kill them _is killed.' W_hy wouldn't he say, _'_…when _they kill_ someone that just tried to kill them_'?_ He essentially admitted previous to that that Mick killed Lee Jay in self-defence…didn't he? So why the linguistic acrobatics not directly naming Mick as the killer? _

"I'm just reading way too much into this now…" he muttered to himself and tried to concentrate on the road. Fifteen minutes later, he was seated on Josh's couch. Josh placed a beer in front of him on the coffee table.

"Got anything stronger?" Carl gazed at the drink wistfully.

Josh smirked and took back the beer. A few moments later, he replaced it with a scotch and sat down on the loveseat on the other side of the coffee table.

"Thanks, man. I needed that—you won't tell my superiors, will you?" Carl grinned.

Josh shook his head. "Nah, I think you're justified under the circumstances." He leaned forward. "So…what happened with Kostan?"

"He's got that same intense, creepy stare as Mick—only he made me even more nervous. He knew about the glass I took from Mick's apartment! Made a big show of saying it was obtained illegally and that it wasn't even necessarily Mick's DNA on the glass, and insulting my intelligence. Then he very pointedly told me testing the glass would be a waste of time and said, '_Got it_?'"

Josh whistled. "Which probably means it wasn't a waste of time—as we already know, though much good it's done us so far. But okay—why don't you start from the beginning?"

"Arrogant little prick," Carl growled. "But it's no wonder—dude can't be more than his mid-to-late twenties and he already has a multi-million dollar enterprise. He mouthed off for a while, talked in circles, then finally admitted he's friends with St. John and went down there to help him—though he claims he got down there after all the fun had happened."

"Did he mention Beth?"

Carl looked at his notes. "He confessed to taking Mick home, and leaving the Benz for Beth."

"So she knew how Mick got home all along!" Josh slammed his fist on the coffee table.

Carl grabbed for his scotch too late; some of it had already jumped out of the glass. He shrugged and replaced the glass on the table—he had to go back to work soon anyway. "Well, why don't you ask her if she knows him? See what she says. Then we can talk about what to do next."

Josh rubbed his forehead with his hand. "It's late—I'll call her and have her come by sometime tomorrow evening before she heads to work."

Carl nodded. "Let me know what she says. I'd better get back to work—thanks for the drink." He stood and looked down at Josh, who still had a hand covering his face.

"…I'll let myself out."

* * *

"Beth." Josh shut the door behind her. "Thanks for coming over. I just wanted to see you—we've both been so busy lately." He leaned in to kiss her. She accepted the kiss with pleasure, smiling slightly at him, then walked over to the couch, throwing her purse and then herself down on it.

"So, how was your day?" she asked brightly.

"It was…interesting. I'm working on a new case that I think should be pretty big."

Beth sat up straight. "Anything you can talk about?"

"No, not yet." Josh smiled slightly at her enthusiasm. _If only she knew what the case was …_ That thought sobered him.

"Beth, can I ask you something?"

Her smile faded a little, and she regarded him with cautious eyes. "Of course." She looked down and started tracing the swirly pattern on the couch with her finger.

Josh regarded her carefully. "Beth, have you ever met Josef Kostan?" he asked suddenly.

Beth's hand stilled. "Um, who?" she said before looking up to meet his eyes.

"Josef Kostan." Josh searched her face. _She's definitely uncomfortable_.

"He's that big hedge fund trader, isn't he?"

_Now she's stalling_. "Yeah, that's him. Have you met him?" Josh asked again.

Beth shook her head slowly. "Nope. Never."

"Hmm."

Beth furrowed her brow. "Why would you think I had?"

Josh shrugged. "No reason."

"Oh, come on, Josh," Beth sputtered, glaring at him. "You can't expect me to believe you asked me a question like that out of the blue for _no reason_!"

"Why are you so angry? It was just a question!"

Beth narrowed her eyes at him. "Was it?"

"Why are you getting so defensive?" Josh crossed his arms.

"Why are you being so secretive?" Beth shot back.

"_I'm_ the one being secretive!"

They stood there, arms crossed, glaring at each other for a full minute before Josh finally relented.

"Sometimes you cover big society events—against your will, I know," he flashed her as much of a grin as he was able under the circumstances. "I thought maybe you might've run into him at one of those. I wanted to know more about him. He may be able to provide some information in the case I'm working on."

Beth frowned, but relaxed her posture slightly. "Okay. Well, I've never met him," she maintained.

"Okay."

They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. Then Beth spoke.

"I'd better get going. Buzzwire will be looking for me."

_Yeah, I'm sure work is the first thing on your mind. Or is it perhaps calling a certain PI to let him know I was asking about Kostan_? "Sure. Yeah. We can talk tomorrow after we've both had a chance to rest up. I'll make you dinner at your place?"

Beth nodded.

"I came across a new chicken recipe I think you're really gonna love."

"Sure, sounds good," she smiled, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before she grabbed her purse and left.

As soon as the door shut, Josh's shoulders sank. He pulled out his phone.

"She denied having met him, Carl—but it was obvious she was lying. Kostan admitted he was there that night. I don't know why she'd be trying to hide the fact that he was."

"_She said before she didn't know how Mick got home. If she admitted now that she'd met Kostan, she'd be caught in a lie_."

Josh ran his hand through his hair. "She _is_ caught in a lie."

"_Yeah, I'm sorry, man. I don't know what to tell you._"

Josh heard Carl's radio going off in the background.

"_Hey, sorry, man, I gotta go deal with a 1-8-7_. _We'll talk later_."

Josh snapped his phone shut and tapped it thoughtfully against his leg. His eyes narrowed as he thought of Beth conspiring with Mick St. John. "There's gotta be _something_ I can do…"

* * *

Carl was forced to put Mick St. John—and Josef Kostan—on the backburner for the time being. A convenience store clerk was found mauled in the midst of a bunch of torn-up chip bags. At first, it seemed like someone had just sicced a vicious dog on some poor, random bastard for kicks. But that didn't quite explain why all his blood was missing. Then they found another guy. Initially they thought it a suicide—but then decided it was unlikely that he'd torn his own throat out before leaping off the roof of a parking garage. His blood was gone, too. _What the hell is this thing? Don't tell me Maizie wasn't joking when she said she'd create a werewolf to prove me wrong_!

Later, he'd been called to Sacred Angels Hospital to check out a potential—and still living—victim of _the_ _Thing_—for there really was no other name for it—but it didn't pan out. It was just some crazy dude who'd taken a hacksaw to himself for reasons Carl still didn't even begin to understand.

He took the employee's exit and ducked into the alley behind the hospital to take a shortcut back to his car. Noticing his shoelace had come undone, he cursed and bent down, but he suddenly heard quick footsteps coming down the alley towards him. He immediately stood and turned to assess the newcomer.

"Excuse me, sir?" The man started saying, still walking toward him. "Are you a cop? I saw you—can you help me?"

Carl whistled as the man stepped under the beams of one of the few lights illuminating the alley. He was dressed in dark pants and a blue shirt, torn open to reveal his undershirt, covered in blood.

"Buddy…what happened to you?!" Carl gaped. _Could this man be an actual almost-victim of the thing running around tearing people's throats out?_ His heart pounded at the thought of a survivor and a lead.

The man was suddenly right in front of him.

"Everything's going to be okay...I'm a doctor."


	12. Chapter 11

Author's note: Some dialogue is borrowed directly or paraphrased from the episode.

Beta: As usual, much thanks goes to the ever-awesome Barb, Bank1115. She's so awesome.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**.**

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 11**

"Everything's going to be okay…I'm a doctor," the bloody man said.

"Um…what?" It only took Carl's mind a split second to process that something wasn't right here.

And that's when it happened.

Before Carl could even blink, the doctor's face changed. His irises turned bright white and fangs hissed in his mouth.

Carl turned to run but tripped over his shoelace and fell hard to his knees. He turned, attempting to keep his eyes on the Thing as he tried futilely to scramble to his feet. Kicking and scuffing his heels on the ground, he progressed backwards mere feet on his hands and buttocks. And still, the Thing advanced. Suddenly it was in his face, staring at him with ice white eyes. Carl could feel his cold breath on his cheeks, nostrils moving in and out as he scented his essence. Carl tried to swallow, again and again, but his mouth was dry.

The Thing reared his head back, opening his jaw as wide as he could, poised to plunge his teeth into the pulsing artery just inches to the left of Carl's wildly bobbing Adam's apple.

But then something whizzed in front of his head, knocking the Thing out of the way. When Carl's eyes were able to focus again, a man in a long, dark coat was standing protectively in front of him, facing the Thing.

The Thing spoke: "I can smell you…you're like me."

"I'm nothing like you," the man said darkly.

The Thing seemed to ignore that remark. "We're vampires…aren't we? The strength…the speed…_the blood_—I figured it out."

Time stopped for Carl as things fell into place. _Vampires!!!…holy crap…holy crap…holy crap…_And then he snapped himself out of it. There was something familiar about his saviour…

"We don't have to kill to survive," the man was saying.

"Mmm…I like killing," the Thing shrugged.

"If your sire hadn't abandoned you, you would know it's against our rules."

"Rules, schmules," the Thing scoffed. "We're top of the food chain, man!"

"And with that comes responsibility."

The Thing just laughed.

"You can't feed like this!" the man seethed.

"Why not? I was doing just fine—until you showed up and ruined the party…Come on! I'll share."

"You'll expose us all. I can't let that happen."

The Thing shook his head. "I won't stop killing."

"Yes. You will."

"Wanna bet?" the Thing grinned.

"Dead men can't pay up," The man intoned, low and deadly. And then he lunged.

A flurry of snarls and growls erupted until suddenly the two men broke apart, facing each other in fighting stances.

Carl finally got a look at his rescuer's face and his eyes bugged out of his head. _St. John!!!_

And just as suddenly it was on again. Mick's eyes went icy and he bared fangs with a snarl.

Carl gasped.

Mick and the Thing started circling each other, looking for a chance, waiting for the other to make a move or be distracted.

The Thing lunged first, but Mick was ready—blocking him and throwing him hard up against a dumpster. The Thing immediately bounced up again, really angry now.

Mick just grinned, displaying his fangs. "If you'd had a sire, you'd know. The older a vamp gets, the more powerful. You're a newborn baby compared to me. You don't even realize your weaknesses."

With that, the Thing lunged again, only to meet Mick's heel as he roundhouse-kicked him into a wall. The Thing slumped on his back to the ground long enough for Mick to leap over and drive something into his torso. Breathing hard, Mick sat back on his heels enough for Carl to see a wooden stake protruding from the Thing's chest.

The Thing's eyes were wide. "Wait…" he gasped, "I understand now…I'll stop killing! I'll go back to my old life!"

"You can't," Mick said huskily. "You destroyed it." And he pushed the stake in as far as it would go. The vampire's eyes and mouth froze open in terror.

Mick gently closed the vampire's eyelids, then stood and brushed off his clothing, his face morphing back to its human façade again. He took a cell phone from his pocket and made a short call.

"Mick St. John. I caught the rogue. Clean-up in the alley behind Sacred Angels." He hung up.

Finally he turned to Carl, who was still reclined on the roadway. Mick stepped over to him and held out a hand to help him up. Carl took it.

"Carl…" his voice sounded broken. "You okay?"

Carl stood in front of him, open-mouthed. "Yeah…" he finally breathed. "Thanks to you…"

Mick shook his head. "I'm sorry I didn't catch him sooner."

"I'm glad you didn't catch him later."

The corners of Mick's mouth turned up slightly at this, despite the situation. But then he sobered again. "Carl…I think we need to have a little talk."

"Yeah…I guess we do." _A vampire just saved me from a vampire._

They regarded each other a moment, each sizing the other up, until a black van turned down the alley and pulled up near the body. Three women in skin-tight black leather bodysuits disembarked.

The tallest, a longhaired redhead walked up and nodded to Mick. "St. John. We'll take it from here—thanks." Her gaze flicked to Carl.

Mick clapped a hand on Carl's shoulder. "I'll take care of him."

The redhead glanced between Mick and Carl—looking down at the latter like he was an insignificant bug under a microscope. Finally she shrugged. "Fine."

Mick nodded to her and nudged Carl along. Carl cleared his throat, attempting to regain some of his composure. "How you doin', ladies?" Carl eyed the other women as they walked past them.

Mick cocked an eyebrow, shaking his head. "Uh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned him. "It might piss them off—and it's almost their lunch break." He looked at Carl pointedly.

"Oh…_Oh_." Carl's eyes bugged. "Well…if I had to choose between being their Happy Meal to go and that guy's"—he referred to the staked vampire's body—"all-you-can-eat buffet…"

"Yeah…got it," Mick smirked.

Beth was sitting in Mick's Benz when they rounded the corner. She scrambled out, wide-eyed, as soon as she saw them. "Oh my gosh—Carl!" She looked frantically to Mick, searching his eyes, as if asking what Carl was doing there and what he knew.

"Carl was almost Pollock's midnight snack."

Beth's eyes somehow became wider. "Are you okay?" she asked Carl.

"Yeah…thanks to Mick, here…" he exhaled and shook his head. "I thought that was it. I thought my number was up."

Mick laid a comforting hand on Carl's arm. "We were just tracking Pollock to the hospital when I caught his scent and followed him down the alley."

"Boy, am I glad you did," Carl muttered.

But Mick's attention was already elsewhere. "Beth, you stayed in the car this time! I'm so proud," he grinned.

Beth wrinkled her nose at him, but her eyes sparkled.

_Uh-oh…_Carl eyed them. _Are they flirting?! Beth is flirting with a vampire. Josh is _so _not gonna like this…_

Mick abruptly turned to him, eyes narrowed. Carl's heart jumped. _Can vampires read minds?!_

"We can hear heartbeats…smell emotions," Mick said suddenly, almost as if he had read Carl's mind. "Yours just jumped and you smell nervous—what's wrong?"

"I-I just…" Carl's mouth went dry again.

"Let's go have that talk, shall we?" Mick grasped Carl's elbow and guided him into the back seat of the Benz, shutting the door on him.

Mick opened the front side passenger door for Beth, then walked around to the driver's seat and hopped in. He started the car and put it into drive.

"Where are we going?" Beth asked.

Carl strained to hear, but couldn't quite make out Mick's answer. Beth, of course, could—but didn't seem to like what she heard. Seeing this, Mick said, "He's one of the elders in the LA community. He needs to be apprised of these new…developments."

_Elders?!_ …_Developments?!_

Carl saw Mick's eyes flick to him in the rearview mirror. Then Beth turned around and gazed at Carl worriedly. She looked back to Mick.

"Shouldn't you…you know…prepare Carl for him a little?"

Mick looked over at her, seeming amused. "You handled him okay."

Beth glared disparagingly at him.

Carl swallowed.


	13. Chapter 12

Author's note: Some dialogue is borrowed directly or paraphrased from the episode.

Beta: As usual, much thanks goes to the ever-awesome Barb, Bank1115—she's fantastic.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 12**

_Okay…so I'm about to meet one of the oldest vampires in LA…best not to think about it_. Carl cleared his throat. "So…you guys were tracking the guy…er, vampire…that killed those two guys…and…almost me?"

"Yeah…" Mick said uncertainly, as if unsure of how much to reveal. "Not too many vampire victims come through the morgue. My, uh, 'friend' who works at the morgue called me about the convenience store clerk. The vamp that did it was obviously feral and had to be stopped. I started tracking him then. I managed to find his sire—it was an accident, he hadn't realized he'd turned him—and got some more information about the rogue, but I needed Beth's police contacts to help me find him…so she came along for the ride."

"You don't have your own contacts in the department?" Carl asked, surprised. "You're a PI!"

"It takes time to develop a contact—_years_. People age; I don't. Cops especially tend to notice that kind of thing."

"You really don't age?!" Carl said incredulously.

"Really don't," Mick replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

"So how old are you really?" Beth asked him.

"It's not polite to ask people their age."

"That's just women!" Beth scoffed.

_Oh, geez, are they flirting again_? Carl groaned inwardly. _Josh really is not—oh, crap, Josh!!! What am I gonna tell him_?!

A whoop from Beth in the front seat drew his attention again. "Immortality looks pretty good to me!"

"Not from where I'm sitting," Mick said.

"Wait—what'd I miss?" Carl broke in.

"He's almost _eighty-five_!" Beth squealed pointing to Mick.

"_Eighty-five_?!" Carl's eyes bugged out of his head. "So, wait—it wasn't your father that got Lee Jay thrown in prison, was it!" he exclaimed. "—It was you! _That's_ why you and he had such a beef with each other!"

Mick nodded. "Lee Jay knew what I was. I almost killed him, back then. His wife Ilene had hired me to protect her, and I failed her. I knew he wouldn't stop killing, either. I had to stop him—permanently. And before he died, he was going to know fear." Mick grimaced. "But before I could finish the job, I was interrupted. Soon after that, Lee Jay was put in prison. Unfortunately, it gave him time to plan his revenge for when he got out—he knew what I was."

Carl nodded and blew his breath out slowly. Noticing Mick's pained expression, he refrained from asking any more questions on that subject. He didn't want to anger the man who had just saved his life—and who could just as easily turn around and take it. He wondered about what was going to happen when he met with 'the elder' and shuddered, quickly suppressing that thought.

"Wait, so who's your guy at the morgue?" He started mentally running through the faces of the people he knew there, but couldn't come up with a single one that he could imagine being a vampire. And then he remembered that Mick appeared perfectly normal as well. _Until_… He shuddered inwardly at the memory of _that_.

"Can't tell, can you?" Mick smirked at him in the rearview. "Scary!"

"It _is_ a little disconcerting," Carl agreed. "So…you're not going to tell me?"

Mick met his eyes in the rearview mirror and shook his head. "Not at this point."

"Fair enough…I guess…but he's your blood supply?"

"One of them. I don't drink fresh…anymore."

Mick had said the last word very quietly and didn't elaborate; Carl sensed that he had once again hit upon a subject that Mick wasn't inclined to talk about. _I guess vampires aren't used to explaining themselves…especially to cops__. _

"Will you tell me the story of the vampire that almost ate me?"

Mick sighed. "A vampire—who shall also remain nameless—was walking across the street when a car ran him down and didn't stop. Pollock—the rogue—saw him lying in the road and stopped to help. He is—was—a doctor."

"'_Everything's going to be okay. I'm a doctor_,'" Carl murmured. "That's what he said to me right before…"

"Yeah…I imagine that's what he said to the injured vamp, too, before the vamp turned around and drained him."

"The vampire attacked the Good Samaritan?"

"You have to understand, a vampire's survival instincts are very strong. When we're badly injured, we need blood to heal. Pollock, unfortunately, stopped to help, not knowing what kind of assistance was needed…"

"Ah," Carl said. "So the vampire drank his blood and somehow turned him into a vampire, too…" He shook his head. "Oh my gosh, I can't believe I just said that...any of this…"

"Yeah. The sire thought he'd drained Pollock and left him for dead. He called the Cleaners—"

"—Are those the lovely ladies in black?"

Mick smiled slightly. "Yeah—they clean up accidents and anything else that might lead to exposure if found by humans. But when the Cleaners arrived, there was no body. The sire had accidentally gotten some of his blood into Pollock's bloodstream, thus turning him."

"Wow," Carl breathed.

"The sire was careless. He should have checked more carefully that Pollock was for sure dead. He will be dealt with. We have very strict rules to prevent exactly this kind of thing from happening. Pollock woke up and didn't know what had happened to him or what he was. He was craving something and didn't know what. Without his sire to guide him, to assist him through the transition and the initial bloodlust, he lost it."

Carl whistled. "Poor bastard. Guess I can't say I blame him…but…wait, three people?" He started counting the bodies off on his fingers. "…The convenience store clerk, the business man…" A terrible thought struck him cold and settled deep in his stomach. "—Wait a minute…I didn't die, did I? I'm not becoming a—"

Mick broke into a grin. "No…you're not a vampire, Carl." Then he immediately sobered. "Pollock found his way home."

"He…killed someone in his family?"

Mick looked away briefly before saying, "His wife."

"Oh, man. Oh, _man_," Carl wrung his hands.

"The hunger was too much."

"We went to look for him at his house," Beth explained further. "We found her there."

"I called the Cleaners to look after her. We don't need any more suspicious bodies going through the morgue. They'll make it look good."

Carl nodded mutely.

"I'm sorry, Carl, I know this is a lot to deal with."

"You can say that again." Carl shook his head.

"And now I'm sorry I have to force some more on you," Mick said, turning the wheel. He threw a quick glance back at Carl. "We're here."

Carl hadn't noticed them turning up a long, winding drive leading to a large, well-lit mansion. He swallowed nervously. _Holy crap…I'm about to meet Dracula. I'm about to meet DRACULA_!

Mick parked and went around to open Beth and Carl's doors. "Follow me." He strode quickly up the walk. Carl and Beth started after him, but very slowly.

"Don't worry," Beth put a reassuring hand on his arm. "They just want to make sure you're not a threat."

Carl raised his eyebrows.

"Hey, I survived," Beth grinned.

"Oh, that's very reassuring," Carl snorted. "You never die! You're always around, no matter how many stupid stunts you pull!"

Beth glowered at him, tossed her hair over her shoulder and started walking faster.

Carl grabbed her arm and held her back. "Beth…help me!" he said in a lowered voice. "I don't want to be a threat—but what happens if they think I'm one anyway? What if they don't forgive me for investigating Mick? I didn't know what I was doing!"

Mick had paused by a side door up ahead. He turned back to stare at Carl, who swallowed.

"Of course you didn't know what you were doing—but that doesn't mean it's not a problem. I can't make any promises—but just be honest. That's the only advice I can give you."

Carl's eyes widened. "You—"

"—Can hear more than just heartbeats really well," Mick explained shortly. "—Ready?"

When Carl nodded—however reluctantly—Mick punched some buttons on the pad next to the door and it opened. He led them up a couple flights of stairs and down a long hallway, finally stopping in front of a set of thick double doors, which opened into an immaculate, ornately decorated study with a hand-painted ceiling reminiscent of the Sistine Chapel. Carl's stomach had finished thoroughly tying itself into knots and now his intestines seemed destined to follow suit. _Stay calm…they can smell fear. Just stay calm__. _

Carl looked surreptitiously around the room, but behind a big mahogany desk, a high-backed leather chair faced the picture window overlooking LA.

"You know," a youthful, masculine voice said from the chair, "one of the hallmarks of true friendship is never needing to knock."

"It kinda helps that we can smell each other coming," Mick rejoined dryly.

"True," the chair spun around. In it sat Josef Kostan, steepling his fingers with a catlike grin.

_Kostan! Oh, of course__…_ Carl closed his eyes and suppressed a groan. _It all makes so much sense now! Geez, no wonder he didn't like being called a punk—I'm lucky he didn't eat me on the spot_!

"Well, well, what do you have here, Mick? Collecting free-range humans now? I like your affirmative action policy. Women, men…white, black…" his dark eyes narrowed, "…reporters…cops…"

"Hello, Josef." Beth nodded stiffly.

"Ah, Miss Turner. Lovely to see you again. Can I offer you a beverage? —White?…or red?"

Beth shook her head.

"I'll tell you a secret: if you're planning on conveniently tripping and spilling all over someone's shirt, either would do. He'll still have to change his shirt."

Carl and Mick glanced confusedly between the two of them as Beth glared at him.

"Just a little inside joke we have," Josef elucidated for the benefit of the rest of the room.

"You mean _you_ have," Beth snapped. "I had no part in its creation. It's all in your head!"

Josef shrugged and finally turned, slightly, to acknowledge Carl. "Pardon me, Lieutenant. I've been neglecting you. It's a pleasure to see you again…tell me, did you ever track down the conspiracy you were seeking?"

"You could say that," Carl replied nervously. "My methods could have used some revision, though; one of your…conspirators…tried to eat me."

Josef chuckled. "Yes, well, try not to judge the rest of us by him." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, and his eyes darkened. "Now…we need to talk about your newfound 'discovery.'"


	14. Chapter 13

My deepest apologies this chapter took so long...but my first draft was sub par, and I've been so busy it was hard to find time to rewrite it. But I finally did, and my beta tells me it's much improved now--so I hope this turns out to be worth the wait! And good news, the next two chapters are pretty much written as well, so I can guarantee it won't be a long wait for the next one!

Author's note: Some dialogue is borrowed or paraphrased from episodes.

Beta: As usual, much thanks goes to the ever-awesome Barb, Bank1115—she's fantastic.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 13**

"Lieutenant Davis, may I ask what your intentions are?"

"My—my intentions?" Carl stuttered.

"Yes. You have just discovered that vampires exist. They are dark, dangerous, and terrifying. One almost ate you. Another saved your life. What do you plan to do with this knowledge?" Josef rested his elbow on the desk and his chin on his palm and drummed the fingers of his other hand on the desktop.

Josef's casual demeanour contradicted the tone underlying his words, and Carl felt a trickle of sweat start at the base of his hairline and creep down his neck. "I—I hadn't really thought about it…"

"Well, you'd better!"

Carl thought he saw Josef's eyes flash white for a second. "I imagine you wouldn't let me leave here if I said I wouldn't keep your secret."

Josef broke into a wide grin. "Oh, Lieutenant Carl, don't be silly! We wouldn't keep you here!"

Carl raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah—after a while, you'd really start to smell—and with our sensitive noses, well, phee-ew!" Josef waved a hand in front of his nose. "No, it'd be a special place in Le Brea tar pits for _you_!"

Carl frowned._ I knew there was a catch._ "So it's like I thought…either I agree to keep your secret, or you kill me."

"Pretty much, yeah." Josef bobbed his head up and down. "It's nothing personal, you understand—call it self-defence, if you will."

"Fair enough, I suppose," Carl agreed nervously.

"I'm sure you can comprehend that your profession renders you potentially extremely dangerous."

"Yes…" Carl tried to swallow.

"And you have been investigating us, _despite_ my best effort to _subtly_ warn you off."

"I must admit, that only made me more curious..."

"Yeah, I must have been having an off-day," Josef shrugged. "Normally, I'd just have had you killed. But Mick convinced me it would be too suspicious if you suddenly kicked the bucket immediately after visiting me—you know how mistrustful people are of multi-millionaire hedge fund traders." He made a moue. "Conspiracy theorists would have a field day, and we can't be too careful—even if nobody ever believes them."

"Look, Mick saved my life, and I'm not the kind of guy who forgets that."

"Mick saved your life from another vampire, one who had killed at least two humans you were sworn to protect, and almost killed you. Are you telling me you're not just a _wee_ bit resentful of our species?" Josef made an appropriate hand gesture to accompany _wee_.

Carl stared at him. "I'm not. Pollock was obviously an aberration, one who was dangerous to humans and vampires alike. You vampires tracked him down and stopped him—I respect that. I do the same thing with humans who kill indiscriminately, or discriminately."

Josef folded his hands together and looked at Carl.

Sensing that Josef was wanting him to say more, Carl said, "I heard Mick tell the rogue that you don't need to kill to survive."

"That's very true—we don't. If we ever do kill to survive, it is usually to eliminate a threat of exposure rather than simply enjoying a meal a little too much—although that does happen on occasion, regretfully." Josef watched Carl carefully as he nodded slowly. "Does it bother you?"

"Well…we all need blood to live, you guys just get it…differently…" Carl trailed off. Then he admitted, "I'm still getting used to the idea..."

"Yes, of course—but you haven't yet run down the street screaming."

"I don't think you or Mick would let me."

"True," Josef smirked, "but if we let you go home without supervision, would you do it then?"

"No," Carl answered immediately.

"No? There'll be no sudden quintuple locks on the doors, no triple reinforced walls and windows, no tinfoil hats, no whispered calls to the government from underneath the bed?"

Carl snorted. "You think I could afford all that? On a public servant's salary?" He raised an amused eyebrow.

Josef's eyes suddenly narrowed. "You're not fishing for a handout, are you? Because we don't pay for secrecy; it tends to make people greedy—and stupid."

"No, no," Carl hastened to reassure him. "I was just making a joke…you know…like you were…weren't you?"

Josef glared at him. "Yes…what's your point?"

Carl gulped. "Um…perhaps I don't have one?"

"It bodes well for our future relationship that you so easily submit to me," Josef smirked.

Carl braved a scowl. "So…I take it there'd be more to this than me agreeing not to mention vampires exist, us shaking hands on it, and me walking away from here."

Josef tilted his head in acknowledgement. "You are correct." He regarded Carl carefully for a moment. "Mick's far too young to have been chased by a torch-bearing mob, but I've had to run from a few in my day—they're no fun. That's what would happen if vampires were outed. But in this day and age, it would be much worse—the news would go worldwide in a matter of seconds. Can you imagine what would happen then? Instant chaos!"

Carl shuddered. "A lot of humans and vampires alike would die."

"That's right. That's why keeping our secret is of utmost importance. It is more than a vow of silence—it requires active participation. You must be ready and willing."

Carl gulped. "Does that mean you want to turn me into a vampire?"

Josef threw back his head and laughed. "No, no. We try not to turn people against their will—it just tends to breed whiners like Mick."

Carl whipped his head around to stare in surprise at Mick, who scowled at Josef.

"Anyway," Josef continued, bringing Carl's attention back to him, "I just meant that you have to be proactive. People do sometimes see things, but they dismiss them—or no one believes them. But if enough happens, or someone catches something on a digital camera, well…it could have disastrous consequences. Keep your eyes and ears out for anything that could lead to unwelcome investigations—I'm sure you have some inkling of what I mean, seeing as you were heading up one"—Josef smirked at Carl's sheepish and concerned expression—"and defuse what you can, however you can—tall tales, lies, sabotage, that kind of thing. And _always_ keep us informed."

"I can do that."

Josef suddenly looked at Carl. "I suppose in the interest of mutual disclosure, it's only fair to tell you what _really_ happened that night at the warehouse. That is, if you want to know…"

"Well, _yeah_." Carl plopped eagerly into a nearby seat. Beth remained standing near Mick, who simply crossed his arms and leant up against a bookshelf.

"None of this goes in your police report, mind you," Josef warned.

"Do I look like an idiot to you?" Carl snorted. "—Wait, don't answer that."

Josef shrugged innocently and began. "Well, for starters: Mick didn't kill Lee Jay in self-defence."

Carl's mouth dropped in shock. "He _didn't_?!"

"No…I did."

Carl's wide-eyed rapture led Josef to continue. "Lee Jay knew Mick was a vampire, and he'd done some research. To be on the safe side, Mick told me to follow him to the warehouse. I came in just after Lee Jay shot Mick. I jumped down—"

"So those _were_ your fingerprints on the roof along with Mick's." At Josef and Mick's surprised expressions, Carl added, "Mick's fingerprints weren't on the door. Julia Stevens's then-crazy statement that'd he'd jumped down from the rafters was bothering me, so I went and checked it out myself. Found two sets of prints up there, Mick's and an unknown's."

Josef shot a disapproving glare at Mick, then scowled at Carl. "You didn't mention that when you interrogated me in my office the other night."

Carl drew himself up straighter in his seat. "Poker, remember?"

Josef's face relaxed into a smirk, and he tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Well…I'm impressed. Yeah…Mick doesn't seem to like using normal doors, for some reason. He must have had a bad experience when he was a fledgling."

Mick rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," Josef continued, "sure enough, Lee Jay had shot Mick with silver buckshot—silver being poisonous to vamps—and Mick wasn't doing so good."

"Sorry about the little white lies, Carl," Mick broke in. "But it was my blood on the floor, and by the time I talked to you, I no longer had injuries to account for it..."

Carl nodded at him. "I understand…now."

"Can we get back to _my_ story? It's way more interesting." Josef interrupted with large hand flourishes. "—So an-y-way, I jumped down to save the day. I engaged Lee Jay in a little verbal sparring—although I got in all the good jousts—then Lee Jay shot at me, too, but I anticipated it and jumped to avoid being hit. Miss Turner walked in just as I was getting more air than Michael Jordan in his entire career, then heard me expressing to Lee Jay how much I was going to enjoy tearing his throat out…"

Beth shuddered.

"After I dispatched Lee Jay, I hastily removed Mick from the building and left Beth to cover things with the cops and bring Mick's car home. Then we had a little chat." Josef smacked his lips. "And you probably know most of what happened after that."

"Hmm," Carl grunted.

"Now," Josef clapped his hands together, "you must have some general questions." He looked at Carl expectantly. "Ask, and I might answer."

"Okay. Do werewolves exist?"

"Oh-kay…" Josef drawled. "I meant questions involving vampires…not, you know, supernatural creatures in general."

"Sure. But do they?"

Josef rolled his eyes. "No! No werewolves."

"Are you sure? Because, up until tonight, I didn't think vampires existed either. Who knows, maybe vampires don't know that werewolves exist."

"I'm pretty sure we'd be able to smell them."

Carl shook his head. "Damn, Maizie will be so disappointed."

"Excuse me, who?"

"Er…lab tech at BioAnalysis. She was doing the DNA analysis for me. She has a thing for werewolves."

Josef's eyes glowed. "Is she the only other who has any potentially incriminating knowledge?"

"Well, no…Sam at the police lab. And"—he glanced quickly at Beth—"Josh Lindsey, in the DAs office."


	15. Chapter 14

Beta: As usual, much thanks goes to the ever-awesome Barb, Bank1115—she's fantastic.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 14**

"Josh knows?!" Beth gasped.

Carl swallowed. "Well, I've been reporting to him throughout the investigation. He was also suspicious of Mick that night. No offense, Mick."

Mick sighed. "None taken. You were just doing your due diligence."

Carl nodded in gratitude, then hastened to assure the vampires, "But to my knowledge, unless he or either of the lab rats also almost got eaten tonight, they haven't figured out your secret."

"Yet," Josef spat.

"Josef," Mick broke in, "we'd better get on damage control."

"It'd be easier and safer just to kill them all."

Beth and Carl gasped simultaneously.

"You can't just go around killing everyone, Josef. That's suspicious in itself," Mick said. "What if we somehow find a way to destroy all the evidence? And/or come up with some plausible explanation for it all, that Carl here can pass on."

"I'll do anything," Carl said quickly.

"Anything?" Josef cocked an eyebrow.

"Well…" Carl amended nervously, "…within reason?"

"Good," Josef nodded firmly. "You may at times be forced to bend the rules you adhere to as an officer of the law, but it's all in the interest of keeping world peace, so use that to help you sleep at night. —Blondie?"

Beth's head snapped up. "What?" she startled, wide-eyed.

"Mr. Lindsey? You know him best."

"I've kept it from him so far," Beth swallowed, "even though I hate lying to him. But I think he knows I'm not telling him everything, and it's probably made him more suspicious."

"Well, keep it up—don't tell him everything. Next time he tries to ask you something, take off his shirt—or yours. Guys like it when a woman takes initiative."

"Ugh," Beth rolled her eyes, then asked, "—What…happens…if Josh _does _find out somehow?"

"Then he dies," Josef said harshly. "—Well, maybe," he hastily amended. "If there's the opportunity, he'll get a hearing—like you did the other night, Beth, and you are tonight, Lieutenant. Believe it or not, vampires _can _be reasonable."

A snort came from the side of the room and Mick suddenly broke into a coughing fit. Josef narrowed his eyes at him.

"Um," Carl began, "what would happen if a human found out, and...didn't take it well…at first?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if they said something they regretted later?

"Are you speaking for yourself?"

"No!" Carl said quickly. "Just…hypothetically."

"—Whether you're human or vampire, you can't threaten to expose the vampire community and then say, 'I'm sorry! I take it back!'—it just doesn't work like that. We take the risk of exposure very seriously."

Carl's jaw twitched. He could see Beth chewing on her lip out of the corner of his eye.

"We have to—or we'd be extinct. If you guys can't handle that…then we have a serious problem. So," Josef leaned forward his eyes burning into Beth's and then Carl's, "—Can you handle it?"

Carl nodded slowly and noticed with relief that Beth did the same.

There was a moment of silence before Carl spoke. "What happens to…anyone…who makes threats?"

"Traitorous vampires are staked or shackled with silver and put to death by flame-thrower, or sometimes by beheading. Humans, we take our time with." Josef flashed a fangy grin.

Carl shuddered.

"Well, I think that's a good note to end on for tonight," Josef said, leaning back in his chair. "Mick, our little human chums must be exhausted, particularly Mr. Cochinita Pibil, here." At Carl's startled look, he added sternly, "—Yes, you positively _reek _of them, Lieutenant! Don't you eat anything else?!"

While Carl's mouth was still flapping noiselessly, Josef addressed Mick again. "Buddy, why don't you take them home and then return here? We have some things to discuss."

Mick nodded. "Come on, Carl, Beth."

Beth smiled slightly at Josef, who responded with a smirk and a, "'Night, Buzzwire."

"Good night—er, good day—um…goodbye, Mr. Kostan," Carl bowed slightly to the elder vampire.

"Josef is fine, Lieutenant," Josef grinned. "I've had four centuries' worth of formalities—enough to excuse them as I please." He watched as Carl's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, then held out a card to him. "This is a number to my private line—emergencies only, you understand. Everything else goes through my secretary."

Carl took the card. "Thank you—but perhaps you should specify what qualifies for emergencies? I'm only familiar with the 9-1-1 kind."

"Anything involving the potential or imminent exposure of vampires. Or any very serious personal trouble—like you are about to be arrested for tampering with evidence, or find yourself severely outnumbered in a bar fight, things like that—we take care of our _friends_," Josef emphasized the last term.

Carl nodded. _Phew—friends. That's a good sign…I think_? "Understood. Do you want my number?"

"Oh, no need," Josef said with a dark smile. "_I_ already have it." With that, he spun his chair around so its back was to the door again.

Carl recognized he was dismissed. He hurried out after Mick and Beth.

* * *

Mick pulled over to the side of the road that ran next to the Sacred Angels lot where Carl had left his car. Since the top was down, Carl hopped out over the side of the car. "I've always wanted to do that…"

Mick flashed him an easy grin. "Why do you think I got a convertible? I hate doors, apparently."

Carl smiled in response, then let it fade. "Thanks, Mick…for everything." He extended his hand and Mick shook it.

"We'll be in touch, Carl. Tomorrow—or later today, I guess. Until then, if you talk to anyone who had been part of the investigation, just act normal, tell them you haven't made any progress if they ask—we don't want them to think something's up."

Carl nodded and looked nervously in the direction of his car, which was on the other side of the lot closer to the hospital, then slowly scanned the area. When he looked back to the Benz, he found he had been caught out.

"Would you like me to walk you to your car?" Mick inquired with an innocent expression. Beth sank down slightly in her seat, pressing a hand to her mouth.

_Great. Now they're laughing at me. Might as well roll with it—I feel perfectly ridiculous anyway_. "You don't know of any other rogue vampires operating in the area, do you?"

Mick rose slightly in his seat and made a show of sniffing the air. "No vampires currently in the area."

Carl breathed slightly easier. "Good to know—thanks."

"Bye, Carl," Beth smiled at him.

"Goodbye, Beth; Mick."

Carl walked to his car, shaking his head. _Vampires…how did I miss that?!_


	16. Chapter 15

Beta: As usual, much thanks goes to the ever-awesome Barb, Bank1115—she's fantastic.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**Chapter 15**

After Beth had left, Josh had fallen into a restless sleep on the couch trying to brainstorm ideas on how to further the investigation. Then, in the wee hours, he woke with his tie wrapped awkwardly around his throat and a notion that kept nagging him. So he removed the tie and stayed up the rest of the night reading Julia Stevens' book _Wronged Man_, hoping to get some sense of what had happened between Lee Jay and Mick St. John's father that would cause so much animosity to be carried over to the son—and to be returned by the son. It didn't make sense. He sat staring at Mick St. John Sr.'s picture for a full twenty minutes. _They look completely _identical, _except for the haircut—it's uncanny_!

At nine o'clock in the morning, Josh called in to tell his assistant that he'd be working out of the office that day and to reschedule all his appointments. He could tell she thought it odd, but she didn't question him—nor did he provide her with an explanation.

He went back to the book. A few hours later, he came up with little he didn't already know. "I wonder if St. John kept all his dad's files…" he mused aloud. "Well…only one way to find out."

He took a quick shower and changed into casual clothing. Then he grabbed a few items from the back of the closet and went for a drive.

* * *

Josh took the elevator up to Mick's penthouse and walked quietly down the hall to the door that said MICK ST. JOHN—PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS in black block letters. He looked at his watch. _Okay—it's two o'clock in the afternoon. St John didn't answer when I called his home or office. Hopefully he's on a case and will be out for a while_. He put his ear to the door and knocked lightly. He waited a moment, but heard nothing. _Perfect_.

Josh pulled out a lock pick set and set to work on the lock. "Damn," he muttered as he repeatedly met with failure. "I need to practice more."

All of a sudden, someone cleared their throat behind him. Josh whirled around. Mick St. John was standing in his now open apartment door, staring at him.

"M-Mick! Um…"

"Josh." Mick folded his arms over his bare chest.

"I—I can explain…" Josh stammered.

"Okay," Mick nodded. His eyes burned into Josh's.

Josh suppressed a shiver. "I…came to see you. I knocked on the door, and there was no answer. But I thought I heard someone inside—like…a burglar or something."

"I didn't hear anything."

"W-well…you were in your apartment. How could you have?"

Mick cocked an eyebrow. "That door is soundproof. How could _you_ have?"

Josh's eyes took in Mick's pyjama pants. "—Are you just getting up?! It's the middle of the afternoon!" His eyes narrowed. "Did you see Beth last night?"

"You're changing the subject."

"Just as you are! —Were you with Beth last night?"

Mick nodded toward the doorknob. "You'll never pick that lock. It's impossible—give it up. Whatever you're looking for, you'll have to get a warrant—that is, if you can. I doubt you have any grounds, or you wouldn't be trying to pick the lock." With one last sharp look at Josh, he turned and went back into his apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Josh trembled with cold fury at the closed door. _Okay. I'll have to come up with something else—I think it's time I saw the scene of the crime for myself_.

* * *

After a quick stop at his office, Josh sliced through the crime scene tape on the door and carefully pulled open the door to the warehouse. In his hand he held Carl's initial report, as well as notes on what had later been discovered. Josh stopped in the middle of the room and looked around. Nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at him. He could see where forensics had been, with all the fingerprint powder and the evidence markers. He crouched down to look at what remained of the blood spatter and shook his head. _Not injured…right_. He rose and shrugged out of his jacket, throwing it on a nearby table. Something clinked underneath and he lifted the jacket back up. _Wooden stakes?_ He shook his head. _Wonder what those were used for…_

A large wooden cupboard caught his eye. There was no fingerprint dust on the handles. Josh snorted. _Thorough job, guys. …But I guess it wasn't _really_ relevant. _He opened it anyway, and his mouth dropped open. _Did no one at least _look_ in here?!_

There, on the shelf, was a bag with Lee Jay's name on it. Josh grabbed it and knelt down on the floor. He dumped it out—sweatshirt, razor, toothbrush, and, at the bottom, a pile of books.

"What the—"

Josh's eyes went wide as he picked up the first book—and the next—and the next.

"_The Vampire Dictionary_?—_Bloodlines: Vampire Lore_?—_Myths and Realities of Vampirism_?!" he scoffed. "Lee Jay had some taste in reading mater—" And then it hit him all at once: the rooftop entry—the lack of injury when all evidence pointed to injury—the "mutant" blood—Mick's lookalike PI dad—the stakes—the '_I know what you are, Mick_.'

"Holy crap—it can't be. _It can't be_."

* * *

Carl was flipping bacon for a late-lunch BLT, staring at the veins of fat and wondering what blood tasted like, when his phone started vibrating on the counter. He frowned at the caller ID. _Uh-oh…_

"Davis here."

"_Carl. Meet me at the warehouse. Alone. Now._"

Carl heard a click and removed his phone from his ear only to stare at it. _The warehouse? Damn, this can't be good._

He turned off the stove, shoved a napkin full of bacon in his jacket pocket, and ran out the door.

* * *

Josh was pacing back and forth across the warehouse floor. He was more agitated than Carl had ever seen him. Carl moved towards him with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Josh spotted him and in a few running strides closed the gap between them. He grabbed Carl by the lapel and shook him. "Carl! Carl!!! They're VAMPIRES. _Vampires!_"

Carl's tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "How did you—I mean, what makes you think that?"

"I came here—looking for anything—and I found Lee Jay's stash. Look at what he's been reading!" He dragged Carl over to the table where he'd displayed the books beside the stakes. "It _all fits_!"

Carl quickly read through the titles and tried to slow his heartbeat. "Okay, look—Josh, calm down."

"Calm down?! How can you expect me to calm down?! We're surrounded by vampires!"

Carl suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. _Not yet, but we will be soon, if you keep yelling like that—one of them's bound to hear! _He grabbed the panicking district attorney by the arm. "Josh, shut up. _Shut. Up._"

"I need to call Beth. She needs to know what St. John really is. She's in danger."

Carl folded his arms. "The other day you were so sure she was covering for St. John."

"Not this! She can't know what she's covering for—no, I don't believe it! Vampires! She wouldn't keep silent—it's the story of the year!"

"It's not always about the story, Josh. Besides, didn't St. John save her life?"

"Maybe he's using that as leverage on her—to keep her silent!"

Carl raised an eyebrow. "—To keep her silent on what you don't think she knows?"

Josh stopped and stared at him. "You don't believe me do you? You think I'm crazy!"

"No, I don't think you're crazy. If you're crazy, then I'm crazy too."

"What?!"

"Josh—I know. _I know_. Listen to me—_I know_."

"You know?! How long have you known?! When were you planning on telling _me_?!"

"I couldn't, Josh." Carl said quietly. But Josh wasn't listening anymore.

"We have to notify…I don't know…someone! The government!" Josh yanked his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open and he started pressing buttons until a loud click suddenly forced its way into his consciousness. His head snapped up.

He was staring down the barrel of a gun. Carl's gun.

"I can't let you make that call, Josh."


	17. Chapter 16

Author's note: Some dialogue is borrowed/paraphrased directly from episodes.

Beta: As usual, much thanks goes to the ever-awesome Barb, Bank1115—she's fantastic.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**Chapter 16**

"I can't let you make that call, Josh."

"What do you mean?!" He stared at him, then at the gun pointed at him held by Carl's steady hand. "Carl! You're not going to kill me, are you?" He laughed incredulously.

"If I have to," Carl nodded, though now the gun shook slightly as he said it.

"But—but why?!"

"We didn't know it at the time, but we were walking a dangerous line with this investigation, Josh. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this—I was hoping we could come up with an explanation for everything that would satisfy you—or that you could be calm and rational about this—but you obviously can't…"

"Carl, what are you talking about?! I don't understand—how can you be on _his_—on _their_—side?! They're vampires—we're _friends_."

Carl nodded slowly. "And friends don't let friends do something mind-blowingly stupid—like threaten to expose the secret existence of vampires." He stared at Josh pointedly.

"Stupid?!"

"Yes—they'll kill you—slowly, I might add—and justifiably so. It's self-defence to them."

"How can you defend them?"

"They're just like any other minority—misunderstood, just trying to integrate and get along. And one saved my life."

"Don't tell me—Mick St. John," Josh sneered.

"Fine, I won't—_the guy we've been investigating_ saved my life, despite the fact that we've been investigating him and he could have just let me die and solved most of his problems."

"How?! When?!"

Carl elaborated reluctantly. "Last night. Well…granted, he saved me from another vampire, but it was a rogue. They don't all kill indiscriminately…they don't need to."

Josh just stared at him, slack-jawed. "Carl! They've brain-washed you!"

"No, they haven't."

"They've threatened you!"

Carl thought a moment. "Well, technically, yes; if they didn't trust me, I'd be dead. But in all fairness, I'd do the same if I were in their position. Like I'm doing now. Josh, if you expose them, you'll be promoting genocide and cause a world war like has never been seen before. Can't you see? We can all just live in harmony—ignorance is bliss for the majority of the human race. You'd be destroying that—in the interests of the community we both swore to serve and protect, I have to stop you."

Josh's eyes narrowed.

"I bet it was a setup. They meant for that vampire to attack you all along, and for Mick to save you so you'd ally yourself with them."

Carl started, then shook his head. "No—I don't believe that. I'm sure you heard about the latest homicides I've been investigating—the convenience store clerk, and the other guy? The rogue was responsible for those. The vampires wouldn't risk exposure to stop an investigation that could lead to exposure. They're too careful—or they try to be."

"Don't you understand, Carl?! They brainwashed you! And they brainwashed Beth, too, didn't they? MY Beth," Josh seethed.

"Somehow I doubt she'll be your Beth much longer," Carl muttered under his breath. He took out his phone, keeping the gun trained on Josh, and called the private number Josef had given him.

After three rings, a voice snapped, "_This had better be good, it's middle of the day_—_which means_ you _just interrupted my beauty sleep, and that makes_ me _liable to bite your head off. —Figuratively speaking, of course_."

"Uh, sorry…sir…" Carl stammered nervously. "It's Carl Davis. I—we—have a problem. It—"

"—_Does_ 'it' _have fangs_?"

"No…but it knows you do. It's Josh Lindsey—I didn't tell him! He figured it out on his own. He…he found some books on vampires in Lee Jay's stuff and put it all together. He's threatening to call the government."

Josef was silent for a moment. Then, "_Where are you_?"

"At the warehouse where the thing with Lee Jay went down."

"_What's Lindsey's status_?"

Carl narrowed his eyes. "He's not going anywhere; if he tries, I'll shoot him."

Josh glared at Carl.

"_Good_." Josef sounded pleased. "_All right, sit tight—on him, if necessary—we'll be there shortly_."

Carl flipped his phone shut with one hand and replaced it in his pocket.

"Traitor!" Josh spat.

Carl examined Josh coolly. He shook his head. "I don't like this, Josh—I really don't. But I have no choice."

"Of course you have a choice! Let me go."

"You won't see reason."

"Which of the brainwashers did you call, anyway? Not-so-Saint John?" Josh sneered.

"Nope. Josef Kostan. He's one of the elders of the LA community."

"So, what—he's going to come and kill me now?"

"I don't know," Carl said quietly. "Maybe not, if he could be assured you'd keep their secret—if it's not too late for that. You've already made threats." He shuddered.

Josh looked past his shoulder and startled. "How did he get here so fast?!"

Carl whirled around, expecting to see Josef. But there was no one there. He started to turn back to Josh, but was met with a fist to his jaw. He stumbled backwards, holding his face with the hand that held the gun.

Josh lunged and knocked him to the ground. Carl had more training in hand-to-hand combat, but Josh was desperate and, to Carl's chagrin, had the element of surprise. He took a few hits before he was able to properly strike back. He struggled to retain his grip as Josh tried to grab the gun and wrestle it away from him.

And that's when it went off.

Josh fell back, clutching at his left shoulder. "Carl…how could you?" he said weakly.

Carl stared at his friend, then down at the gun in his hand in horror. _How had it come to this_?

"Josh, I'm sor—" he began, but was cut off by a sudden uppercut to the jaw.

The hit temporarily loosened his hold on the gun and Josh was able to get it away from him. Josh scrambled back several feet, training the gun on Carl. The wound in his shoulder was only bleeding a little—it seemed as though the bullet had just grazed him. "I'm not sorry now, Carl." He moved his finger to the trigger.

Carl closed his eyes, waiting for the shot. _I only hope Kostan does get here soon, and likes me enough to avenge my death. At least I can be assured Josh won't live long for this. _

But the shot didn't come.

Carl opened his eyes to see a raven-haired vision in a black leather full bodysuit holding Joshua Lindsey up by the scruff of his neck. She easily twisted the gun from his hand and threw it across the room, glaring ferociously at him. Josh looked as though he were about to wet his pants.

_Now that's what I'm talking about!_ Carl let out a breath of relief and gazed at the Cleaner in adoration. "Where did you come from?!"

The Cleaner answered without taking her eyes off her prisoner. "My place—I live nearby. Kostan put in an emergency call in for a Cleaner to meet him here. I got here just in time, I see."

"Yeah, I was the one who called Kostan. I didn't know he'd be calling you, too." Carl flashed her a wide grin. "But I'm glad he did, because now you're my knight in shining black leather."

The Cleaner turned and cocked her eyebrow at him. "Guess that makes you the damsel in distress? I think you're a little overdressed in that suit."

Carl trailed his finger up and down his lapel. "Well, if you want, I can—"

"Good grief, Carl!" Josh spat. "Now you're flirting with one of—" Suddenly, five elongated fingernails closed in around his throat, effectively cutting off any further comment.

"Ugh," the Cleaner sighed, momentarily examining the nails on her free hand, "I had to get up in the middle of the afternoon after I worked a full shift last night and come out in broad daylight for the likes of _him_? Who is this guy, anyway?"

"ADA Josh Lindsey. We were running the…investigation…together."

The Cleaner looked at him sharply. "Investigation? Josef didn't have much time to brief me."

Carl cringed. "There were some…inconsistencies with the Lee Jay Spalding case. We had to check them out. This was before we knew vampires existed, obviously. But last night things changed for me…"

The Cleaner eyed him up and down. "Yes—I remember you from the Sacred Angels scene," she said with a slight smirk in her voice. "Kostan says you're OK now. So, Copper—do you have any handcuffs on you?"

Carl's eyes opened wide. "—What?!" he squeaked.

"To restrain the _attorney_?" The Cleaner clarified with a quirked eyebrow.

"Oh…right…yeah, of course," Carl blushed a little as reached into his pocket and pulled out the napkin full of bacon he'd taken as his lunch to go. "Oh…uh…that's not them," he said, his cheeks turning redder as he hastily shoved his lunch-to-go back into his jacket. He reached behind him—as he'd originally intended to do before he was distracted—and started feeling around in his waistband. "I could have sworn I had them…"

"You know, you're kinda cute when you blush," she grinned. "—For a human, that is."

Josh rolled his eyes in disgust. The Cleaner threw him down onto the couch and folded her arms, standing guard over him.

Carl leaned back against the nearby table, his eyes on the beautiful vampiress. "You know, I've always had a thing for older women—"

The Cleaner cut him off with a swift glare. "Okay…you just ruined it." She whirled and stalked several paces away from him.

"_Damn_." Carl cursed himself with a smack to the forehead. "One of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, and who could kill me with her pinkie fingernail, is flirting with me, and I have to go and stick my foot in my mouth!" he moaned under his breath.

The Cleaner turned around suddenly on her heel. "Vampires have sensitive hearing, you know…"

"_Crap_!" Carl reddened again. "Yeah, I forgot about that…"

"It's okay, it may have redeemed you…just a little." The Cleaner pinched her thumb and index finger together to indicate just how much.

"Oh, really?" He took a few steps closer to her.

"Really." She took a few steps in his direction.

"Disgusting freak show," Josh spat from the couch.

"Get up, human," the Cleaner snarled as she turned and strode over to him. "I want you to say that to my face."

Carl sucked in his breath as he saw her eyes turn ice white. Then things happened in slow motion.

The Cleaner glanced sharply over at him.

Josh lurched to his feet, his lip curled in contempt.

Carl noticed Josh holding his arm awkwardly behind his back.

Carl's mouth started to open to warn the Cleaner.

Carl saw her face change as she recognized the horror in his eyes.

The Cleaner spun back to face Josh just as he was swinging his arm around.


	18. Chapter 17

Author's note: Some dialogue is borrowed/paraphrased directly from episodes.

Beta: As usual, much thanks goes to the ever-awesome Barb, Bank1115—she's fantastic.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**Chapter 17**

The look on the Cleaner's face temporarily stopped Carl's heart. He could almost feel her shock and terror as she fell to her knees, then crumpled over backwards, the stake protruding from her chest.

"NO!" he shouted. He ran over to her, caressing her cheek and fumbling for a pulse for a moment before he realized that it was a wasted effort on someone undead. But her eyes were closed and she wasn't moving. He felt a crushing weight on his chest and struggled to breathe for a moment before he remembered that her murderer was still standing over her feet, looking down at her.

He stood, glaring fiercely at Josh. "What have you done?!" he demanded.

"I killed a monster. It was self-defence. She was going to kill me. Surely you can understand," Josh said bitterly.

"You threatened her first!" Carl yelled.

Josh ignored that. "You were flirting with her. It was disgusting. How could you flirt with someone like her?"

_Are we still talking about me and the Cleaner?_ "She's not a monster," Carl clenched his fists.

"Are you kidding? She'd probably eat you for breakfast after the first of your demon-spawn were born."

Carl drew back his fist and punched his former friend in the head so hard that Josh's body arched up and back before he fell to the ground, unconscious.

He stood over him for a moment, rubbing his hand, then turned and fell to his knees over the Cleaner. _I didn't even know her name…_Then his heart almost stopped when her eyes fluttered open. _She's alive_?!

"Take—it—out," she whispered haltingly.

_She's alive_!"You're alive!" he gasped. "—Wait, what'd you say?"

"The—stake…take—it—out," she whispered louder.

"Oh, um…okay… Maybe it's like a piece of glass or something, you're supposed to wait until—"

"TAKE—IT—OUT," she whispered more urgently.

"Okay…" Carl took a deep breath and wrapped his hands around the stake. Then he pulled.

The stake came out with a loud slurping noise and the Cleaner rolled over, gasping. "Ugh," she groaned, shuddering. Then she looked over at him. "Thanks," she said weakly.

Carl looked at her worriedly and took off his jacket.

"What are you doing?" the Cleaner asked hoarsely.

Carl started unbuttoning his shirt at the collar. "I don't know how to do this, but I know you need it, so—" he tilted his head and angled his neck towards her.

"_Oh_," the Cleaner breathed. "Oh, you're sweet—but I'm fine. I had a pint of blood in the car on my way over. I should heal soon."

"Oh." Carl said. He started buttoning his shirt back up to cover his surprising disappointment. "I thought stakes were supposed to kill vampires…"

"No, they only paralyze us," the Cleaner explained. "It does hurt, but mostly it's terrifying, not being able to move."

"Oh," Carl sighed. "Well…I'm glad you're okay now."

The Cleaner was eyeing him with a look Carl didn't dare to try to interpret for fear he'd be wrong and embarrass himself. "Me too," she said.

They were lost in each other's eyes for a moment before she spoke again. "Guess you're _my_ knight in shining armour now."

Carl grinned. "I think you're a far better-looking damsel than I ever was, anyway."

"Oh, you aren't so bad," the Cleaner replied playfully. "Maybe I'll take a rain check on your offer."

Carl's heart started beating a little faster, and she smiled knowingly at him. Then she finally noticed Josh sprawled unconscious on the floor and broke into a wicked grin. "Did you do that—for me?"

"Yeah," Carl flushed lightly.

"You're blushing again..." she said silkily. "What did I tell you about that?"

Carl wasn't sure who moved first, but he soon found himself very agreeably engaged with a vampiress. It was unbelievably exciting.

Suddenly a loud male voice cut into his consciousness.

"What the hell is going on in here?!"

* * *

"What the hell is going on in here?!" Josef repeated, staring darkly at them. He looked down at the unconscious and bleeding Josh sprawled on the floor, then back at Carl and the Cleaner, who scrambled to their feet and smoothed their rumpled clothing.

Carl felt like a naughty schoolboy. _Wow…this is way worse than the time at the police academy_. "Um…we were just…she…that is, I…um…"

Josef surveyed the room. "I thought you had things under control?!" He demanded of Carl, who hung his head. Then he turned to the Cleaner, "And _you_—you _definitely_ should have had things under control. I ask again, _what the hell is going on here_?!" Suddenly he noticed the hole and dark stain on the breast of her uniform. "Did you get _staked_?!"

The Cleaner remained stoic. She cleared her throat. "Mr. Lindsey apparently had hidden one on his person, and, uh, caught me unawares."

"Uh-_huh_," Josef nodded knowingly then turned to Carl. "Do you even know her name?"

Carl's mouth went dry. "Ms.…um…Ms.…Cleaner?"

"Nice, very nice." Josef smirked condescendingly at him, then turned back to the Cleaner. "I think I'm going to have the council review your uniforms. They seem to be…detracting…from your purpose."

The Cleaner put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Need I remind you they were _your_ suggestion?"

"Yeah, well, they seemed like a good idea at the time," Josef said defensively. "Very clean, and…aerodynamic."

The Cleaner drew her perfectly manicured eyebrows together with an incredulous frown.

"Oh, never mind," Josef grumbled. "Anyway, Mr. Lindsay just signed his death warrant," he growled at Josh, who at just that moment was coming to—only to find himself faced with another angry vampire.

Josef was still glowering at a visibly terrified Josh when he addressed Carl, "Lieutenant Davis, would you mind peeling yourself away from 'Ms. Cleaner' for a moment and securing the entrances to the warehouse?"

"You're kicking me out?!" Carl pouted. "After all this?"

Josef threw him an exasperated look. "_No_, I just want you to lock all the doors from the inside."

"Oh. Yeah, I can do that."

When he returned from bolting the doors, he found Josef pacing back and forth in front of Josh, whose terrified eyes followed the vampire. Carl only felt a little sorry for Josh. _He brought this on himself_. Then he thought of what "this" might entail, and shuddered.

Carl nearly jumped out of his skin when someone started pounding on the warehouse door. He turned, wide-eyed, to Josef.

"Ah, our guests have arrived." Josef said, but made no move to let them in. The pounding continued.

Carl looked questioningly at him.

"Ignore it," Josef waved him off, "It's just Mick. He'll find another way in."

Sure enough, thirty seconds later, Mick jumped down from the rafters. He landed in a fighting stance, fangs bared. After glancing suspiciously around the room, he let his eyes rest on Josef.

"What's going on, Josef?! You call me, all mysterious, and tell me to get over here ASAP with Beth, then hang up. And when we get here, the door's locked. I thought you were in trouble!"

"Didn't you look before you leapt, Mick? —Oh, no,wait—_of course_ you didn't. You were jumping to conclusions, and nobody ever looks before they do _that_." He waved his arm around the room. "Does it _look_ like I'm in trouble? Does it _look_ like the assistant district attorney got the jump on me?"

Mick took one look at the bruised and groggy Josh and glared at Josef. "Why'd you lock the door, Josef?" he asked suspiciously.

"I _didn't_!" Josef protested innocently.

Mick's expression indicated he did not believe him.

"What, I didn't!" Josef smirked.

"_I_ locked the door," Carl broke in. "At his request," he added, jerking a thumb in Josef's direction.

Mick acknowledged Carl with a nod, then turned back with a glare to Josef. "What did you do to Josh?" he demanded.

"Uh, all me again," Carl interrupted once more, raising his hand slightly.

Mick looked askance at Carl. "Carl, what's happened to you overnight?"

"You should ask him what's happened to him this afternoon," Josef smirked, earning him a dark glance from Carl.

Mick looked from Josef, to Carl, to the Cleaner, to Josh. "Okay. I'm gonna go open the door for Beth, and when we come back, somebody's going to explain what the heck is going on here."

"Let me get her," Carl volunteered and headed for the door. _I should be the one to tell her_.

He unbolted the door and opened it to a surprised and worried Beth.

"Carl! What are you doing here? Is Mick okay?" At Carl's startled expression, she asked quickly, "What's going on?!"

_Mick isn't the one she should be worried about—then again, maybe he is. Josh isn't worthy of her concern anymore_. Carl felt a moment of sadness for his former friend, until he remembered how he treated the Cleaner and hardened. "Mick's fine, Beth. It's…it's Josh…I'm sorry things have to end this way."

Carl suddenly found his arm caught in a death-grip.

"What do you mean, Carl?! What happened to Josh?—is he…?"

"He's alive, Beth—but the situation's not good. He…well, I'm going to explain to everyone what happened all at once. They're waiting for us."

Beth kept clutching his arm until they entered the large room. As soon as she saw Josh, she ran to his side. "Josh!" she grabbed his hand. "You're hurt! What happened?!"

Josh forced himself to sit up so he could half-embrace her. Then he pulled her ear to his mouth and whispered, "Mick St. John tried to kill me."


	19. Chapter 18

Author's note: So sorry for the long wait for this chapter! My muse was balking at it for some reason. I'll try to be quicker with the next one.

Beta: As usual, much thanks goes to the ever-awesome Barb, Bank1115, who is supremely awesome.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 18**

"I did not!" Mick cried indignantly at the same time Josef and the Cleaner said in unison, "He did _not_!"

Carl looked between Josh and the vampires. "—What just happened?"

"The assistant district attorney just perjured himself," Josef snarled, his eyes glowing.

Beth was angry—Carl couldn't be totally sure at whom. "Josh, what do you mean, Mick tried to kill you?"

"Right before you came in—he came down from the roof and started beating the crap out of me. He was going to kill me, until he remembered you were right outside!"

"I didn't touch you, Josh, and you know it," Mick growled.

"Can you prove it?" Josh dared him.

Mick stared him down. "Josh, if I had tried to kill you, you'd be dead." He let his eyes glow white and displayed his fangs for emphasis.

"Yeah," Josef growled, "You'd be dead for sure, because after something 'came up' and Mick couldn't finish the job, I'd have stepped in—and _I_ don't leave things half-done."

Josh's jaw twitched—as did Mick's.

"Josh?" Beth prompted him. He refused to answer or look at her.

Carl glared at Josh, then looked Beth in the eye. "Beth, Mick didn't touch Josh. I did that to him."

Beth stood up. "You, Carl?"

Carl nodded. "I had no choice," he said. "Josh didn't give me one."

"Josh?" Beth looked down at him. He still wouldn't meet her gaze. She shook her head; her eyes were suspiciously bright. "Carl, will you tell me what happened here this afternoon?"

"Josh found out. About vampires. He found some books of Lee Jay's and put it all together."

"He was trying to snoop around my office earlier this afternoon," Mick interjected.

"That must have been just before he came here. He called and told me to meet him here immediately. I tried to reason with him, but… Then he started threatening to call the government. That's when I called Josef.

"After we hung up, Josh managed to distract me and got the jump on me. We fought over the gun. It accidentally went off and grazed Josh. I was in shock. Then Josh hit me and got the gun away from me. He was going to shoot me"—Beth gasped and looked down at Josh—"when Ms. um…the Cleaner showed up." Carl couldn't stop his cheeks from reddening slightly as he glanced at the Cleaner.

"She sat him down on the couch and we were, uh, talking, when Josh said something insulting. She told him to stand up and say it to her face. Neither of us knew he had hidden one of Lee Jay's stakes on him until it was too late." He glared at Josh. Beth was still looking tearfully at him.

"Then I knocked Josh out and pulled the stake out of, um, the Cleaner. That's when…uh, Josef arrived." Now Carl blushed heavily and didn't dare look at the Cleaner or especially Josef. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mick look at him strangely, then lean forward slightly and inhale deeply. Mick's eyes widened and he raised his eyebrow at Carl.

_Stupid vampires literally sticking their noses in my business. I'm never going to hear the end of this._ Carl snuck a glance at the Cleaner. She seemed indifferent. _Hmm—maybe you get used to it. I guess they can't exactly help smelling things…_

"Pardon me, Lieutenant," Josef interrupted his thoughts. "But I think you left out something?" He wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

…_But geez, do they really have to comment on them?_ Carl coughed slightly. "Oh, come on, is that really relevant?"

Josef nodded firmly at him.

Carl sighed. "Ugh—fine. Well, when Josef arrived…Ms. Cleaner and I were, uh…otherwise engaged." His cheeks reddened again. The Cleaner grinned adoringly at him.

"Oh, that's right!" Josef slapped his thigh. "I'd forgotten all about you two making out!"

Beth's eyebrows shot up. Carl threw his hands up and turned to look over at a spot on the wall.

With a smirk, Josef continued, "I was actually referring to when I came in and stopped to tie my shoe—but _oh_, I beg your pardon, you wouldn't know about that—while I was paying attention to the placement of the tongue of my shoe, you were busy paying attention to the placement of your tongue in her mou—"

Carl stopped him with a dark glare over his shoulder. "Kostan, tomorrow I start putting silver bullets in my gun."

Josef just smirked. "Think you can afford those on your salary?"

Carl just shook his head, muttering, "Man, I hate fun-ny, fun-ny vampires…"

"Why did you lie, Josh?" Beth demanded suddenly. "Why?"

"Why did _you_ lie to _me_?"

"I-I couldn't tell you what really happened—what they were, Josh. I was sworn to secrecy."

"You used to tell me everything! You know I can keep a secret."

"It wasn't a matter of trust—I was trying to protect you. This secret's different, Josh…I think you know that."

"Why'd Mick tell _you_, then?" Josh glared.

"He _didn't_ tell me. I kinda—"

"Your plucky little girlfriend wouldn't do as she was told—twice, by two different people—and wait in the car," Josef interrupted hotly. "She walked in to the warehouse and saw some things we couldn't explain away. After ascertaining she would not go home and write the tabloid story of the century, we released her."

Beth glared at him, then looked back at Josh. "Why did you tell me Mick tried to kill you?

"So Mick didn't try to kill me, literally—but he's trying to take you away from me, where you belong. Can't you see, Beth? You've been brainwashed by these monsters!"

"Okay, I'm really not liking this guy," Josef stated dryly. "What do you see in him, Beth?"

"Josef. _Knock it off_," Mick shook his head pointedly.

"I'm—I'm not sure anymore—the Josh I knew wouldn't have done these things." Beth turned her back to Josh.

"Beth—"

"Nothing like staking a vampire to let your true colours shine," Josef quipped darkly. Josh turned hateful eyes to him.

"I under—I understand you can't let him go," Beth shut her eyes briefly. "—But do you have to kill him? Can't you just put him in some sort of…vampire…jail?" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Vampire jail?!" Josef snorted. "Vampire jail is a stake through the heart...Somehow I don't think that's _quite_ what you had in mind."

"No," Beth let out a half-sob, half chuckle and shook her head. "Not really."

"Beth…" Mick took a step toward her.

"No," Beth shook her head and stepped back, "it's okay Mick…I…I understand." She turned and walked across the room and sank down against the wall, burying her face in her hands.

"Well, Mick," Josef began, "I think that's the signal for you to make an honest man out of Josh."

Mick whipped his head around to stare at Josef in horror. It only took Carl a second longer to do the same.

"What?! No. No!" Mick glanced desperately over at Beth. "I—I can't! I can't do that."

"Relax, buddy," Josef said calmly, brushing a piece of lint off of Mick's sleeve. "Remember what I said before? I'll finish the job for you."

"And don't forget me—I want my piece," the Cleaner flashed her fangs. "Nobody—_nobody_—stakes a Cleaner."

Beth rose from her seat on the floor by the wall and returned to stand in front of Josh. "I loved you Josh—I still do. But I don't know you anymore. You betrayed me, and tried to kill a friend, and a friend of a friend—and now you have to pay the consequences." A single tear rolled down her left cheek. "I'm sorry for you—for us—that it has to end this way."

Josh hung his head. "Beth…" he pleaded. "I do love you…"

She turned to Josef. "Can you please just make it quick? I don't want him to suffer."

Josef opened his mouth as if to comment, but instead dipped his head in acknowledgement. "As you wish."

Carl pressed his lips together. _Maybe Kostan _does_ know when to shut up after all. I can't imagine what Beth must be going through._

Beth turned and walked listlessly in the direction of the door.

"Beth! Don't leave me—BETH!" Josh yelled. "Don't leave me with them! How can you say you love me and let them do this to me?! They'll kill me—BETH!"

Mick started to follow her, but stopped in front of Josh. "For what it's worth, I wish it hadn't happened like this, Josh."

"This is all your fault, St. John," Josh seethed. "My blood is on your hands!"

"No…it's not. And it's because you can't see that that you won't be around much longer."

"Excuse us, Mick, but Mr. Lindsay and I, we have an execution to attend." Josef stepped in between the two men. His eyes glowed white as he yanked Josh to his feet.

Mick nodded at Josef, then at Carl and the Cleaner. With one last sad look at Josh, he turned and exited the warehouse in a blur.

Josh was panicking, struggling in Josef's iron grip. "Let me go! _Let me go_! You can't do this to me! I'm a district attorney—you think they won't notice?"

Josef just laughed at him with his fangs fully elongated. "You don't have to watch this, Lieutenant," he addressed Carl, not taking his eyes off Josh. He tilted his head in the direction of the door.

Carl exhaled shakily in relief. "Yeah, good. I'll—I'll be outside." He looked at Josh one last time. "Josh…I…"

Josh's eyes were really showing terror now. "Carl, you can't let them kill me! Do something! Call them off!"

Carl looked at Josh, askance. "'_Call them off_?' They're not dogs, Josh. And I certainly don't control them."

"We may not be dogs, but we sure have nice…_canines_…don't we, Mr. Lindsey?" Josef flashed him a sinister grin.

Josh shuddered. "Carl, _please_. I'll do anything—"

"Josh, you did anything but what you should have. I tried to warn you, Josh, what would happen. I did."

"Well, Carl," Josh interjected through gritted teeth. "I hope you can live with yourself."

"I don't have any regrets about how I handled things, Josh," Carl responded sharply, "but I do regret how you did. I wish things had turned out differently. I really do. Up until today, I could say it was a privilege knowing and working with you—so we'll try to end on that note." He held out his hand. Josh spat on the hand and Carl withdrew it. He clenched his jaw. "Fine, then—I'm done." He went over to the table and wiped his hand on Josh's jacket. Then he nodded to Josef and the Cleaner. "Do with him what you gotta do—but I second Beth's request. I think he's caused himself enough suffering."

Carl shook his head sadly and walked away. The Cleaner squeezed his arm as he brushed past her. He smiled weakly at her. "I'll wait for you—we need to talk." She nodded and he felt her eyes on him until he had walked down the corridor out of sight.

When Carl stepped outside, the late afternoon sun hit his eyes and he was forced to shade them with his hand. There was no sign of Mick or Beth. Carl folded his arms, shut his eyes and leaned up against his car to wait.


	20. Chapter 19

Author's note: Once again, SO sorry for the long wait! My muse was balking again. Hopefully you all still remember this story.

Beta: As usual, much thanks goes to the ever-awesome Barb, Bank1115, who is supremely awesome.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 19**

Carl gazed at a pebble on the ground and lost all track of time. A pair of shoes suddenly entered his peripheral vision and his head snapped up.

He breathed in relief upon seeing who it was. "Mick! —Did you find Beth?"

Mick just stared at him.

Carl threw up his hands. "Right. _Of course_ you found Beth. You're a two-legged bloodhound," he muttered, a little bitterly.

The corners of Mick's mouth turned up slightly. "Sorry for…_smelling_...what I did earlier, Carl."

Carl rolled his eyes and sighed. "It's okay, I know you can't exactly help it…but can _Josef_?!"

Mick wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Not really."

The two men grinned at each other for a moment. Then their smiles faded.

"I gotta give him credit…at least he knows to shut up when it really counts."

Mick nodded, then shrugged with his eyebrows. "Well…usually..."

"So…Beth...is she all right?"

Mick looked down at the ground and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "She…wanted to be alone, so I drove her home. She told me she'd know if I was watching her, so I came back to see if I could…help. I mean, with the cleanup and all that."

Carl looked toward the building. "What," he paused as his mouth went dry, "do you think they're doing in there?"

* * *

Kostan had thrown Josh back down on the floor. He and the Cleaner circled him predatorily, their irises glowing an eerie white.

Then Kostan spoke. "Well, Mr. Lindsey—it seems all the humans have finally left the building."

Josh glared stonily at him, but his heart was pounding in his throat. _Beth and Carl are gone. They've left me—with these monsters_.

"—You know what that means."

All of a sudden, Kostan was grinning and flaring his nostrils six inches from his face and Josh nearly wet his pants. He jerked his head backwards; anything to avoid the feel of Kostan's cold breath on his face. The vampire just threw his head back and laughed. Josh's eyes fixated on the razor-sharp points of his fangs and he suppressed a shudder. He glanced over at the Cleaner, who was hovering in the background with a wicked grin on her face. Then Kostan stopped laughing abruptly and commanded Josh's attention again.

"See, Beth and Carl—they're smart. They understand how this works—how this _has_ to work—for the stability of the entire planet. You, my man, have failed to grasp that simple concept. Just what exactly was your plan? What did you want the government to do—increase our taxes?"

"No," Josh choked out, "I wanted them to _destroy_ you."

"Yes, but _why_? Did one of us run over your puppy or something?"

Josh pressed his lips together in a thin line.

"What did we ever do to you except exist—the knowledge of which you only just acquired, might I add?"

Josh remained silent.

Kostan stood and walked back and forth in front of him. "Humans and vampires have co-existed for thousands of years. There have been moments in history when large parts of the general population found out and were collectively…_uncomfortable_…with our 'lifestyle choices,' so to speak, and mob mentality took over," he shuddered, "but for the most part it's been a peaceful existence, thanks to 'ignorance is bliss.'"

"'Uncomfortable' with your 'lifestyle choices'? I bet you have more dead bodies to your name than all the serial killers in the country combined!"

"Well, that _may_ be true—but what can I say?" Kostan waved his arm in a circle, "When you've been around for over 400 years, you tend to accumulate things."

"_Four hundred_?!" Josh couldn't stop his outburst.

Kostan stopped pacing and stared at him in amusement. "I was born in 1599—you do the math."

"_Seriously_?!"

"No, not seriously," Kostan mocked. "Vampires really don't exist, this is all just one big, elaborate joke—Assistant District Attorney Josh Lindsey, you've been PUNKED!" Kostan jabbed the air with his finger to accent the last word.

_Ass_. Josh was not amused. "I almost wish that were true."

"Yeah. Yeah, I bet you do. But you started it yourself when you tried to make a phone call you shouldn't have."

"The government should know about you."

"Oh yeah?" Kostan started to smile. "Who says they don't? Did you ever just stop think about what would happen if the government you called _were_ vampires?"

Josh froze. " _Bush_?!"

Kostan snorted. "No. Not good ol' Dubya," he drawled. "After he got elected, the Council actually passed a law stating that if anyone tried to turn him, they'd be staked, taken to the desert at high noon, injected with silver, set on fire, and beheaded. —But we have other friends in high places." He glanced sideways at Josh. "Anyway, you can't seriously believe your call would have gotten all the way up the chain to the president!"

Josh shrugged. The Cleaner smirked.

"Your call probably would have gotten forwarded to Eddie," Kostan continued. "He's our guy in the branch of the FBI that investigates paranormal activity. He would have made sure any investigation into your 'outrageous' claim went nowhere. Ironically, he's worked there twenty years, and no one's noticed anything paranormal about him. Never underestimate the stupidity of humans," he smiled and shook his head nostalgically.

"Didn't you used to be one?" Josh sneered.

"Yes. Apparently you've forgotten that, too."

Josh fell silent.

"Anyway, I was going somewhere with my vampire government story—Mr. Lindsey, do you remember the French Revolution?"

Josh raised an eyebrow. "Do I _remember_ the French Revolution?"

"Oh—right. Sorry, used to dealing with _people_ a lot older than you. Are you familiar with the rendering of the French Revolution given in history books?"

"Generally," Josh admitted warily, his eyes following Kostan as he paced again.

"Pretty brutal, right? Well, that's the kind of thing that happens when someone opens their big yap and alerts the conspiracy hounds to the existence of vampires. Can you imagine that in this age, with weapons of mass destruction? We may as well just blow up the planet and be done with it. _That_ is why secrecy is imperative and why we do not and cannot tolerate _threats_," he continued darkly. "_You_"—he pointed at Josh—"have made multiple threats and shown no respect and no remorse. Ergo, you must die for the good of the entire universe."

"Oh really? This has nothing to do with Beth? Or your buddy Mick? He brainwashed her!"

"Boy, somebody has a one-track mind, doesn't he? Don't be ludicrous," Kostan scoffed. "It's only a myth that vampires can hypnotize people."

Josh looked at him doubtfully.

"Really! We can't change into bats either, although that would be cool, wouldn't it?" He locked eyes with Josh for several moments, never wavering, even when he finally shrugged. "Look, there's a few things that perhaps you should understand about Mick…and his history with Beth. It's true, they share a connection—but it's deeper and longer-running than you, or even she, at this point, is aware of."

Josh couldn't hide his surprise at this. "What the hell are you talking about?" he scowled.

"Mick became a vampire on one dark, cold night in 1952. It was his wedding night, and Coraline, his blushing bride—so to speak—hadn't informed him of her nocturnal feeding habits, or her tendency to bite down when—well, you know," Kostan smirked and began pacing. "His reaction was quite similar to yours—he thought himself a 'monster.'" He sighed dramatically. "Their relationship was tumultuous before, but this took it to a whole new level. It was hot and cold for 33 years until Coraline made one last big push to get him back—she thought perhaps if she could give him something he'd always wanted—a family—he'd come back to her. Don't know if you're aware of this, but vampires can't have children—at least not in the traditional way. But it's also kinda hard for us to adopt; background checks don't usually end well," Kostan shook his head and made a moue before continuing, "So Coraline, ever-creative, stole a little girl from her bed as she slept." Here he paused and looked at Josh pointedly.

Josh swallowed hard as the realization hit him. "Beth…"

"…Beth," Kostan nodded. "It was the last straw. Mick couldn't stand the thought of a child dying for him. It finally gave him the strength to break free. He killed Coraline, and took Beth home to her family. He's watched over her ever since from afar—until that night at the fountain, when she noticed him."

Josh was silent for a moment. "And now, now that she's, what, old enough, Mick's trying to seduce her away from me?" he seethed suddenly.

"—What?" Kostan said incredulously. "Did you just use 'Mick' and 'seduce' in the same sentence?"

"She's been obsessed with him, lying for him. I felt her pulling away from me—he's been drawing her in."

Kostan crouched down in front of Josh. "Not intentionally, believe me." He looked him in the eye. "But you can't blame Mick for _your_ failure to keep a girl satisfied."

Josh spat in his face.

Kostan rose calmly and removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. He used it to wipe the spittle from his cheek, then held it out to the Cleaner. "Burn that," he commanded. She nodded and took the handkerchief by the corner.

"You can't do this—you can't kill me!"

"Oh, really?" Kostan cocked an eyebrow. "I was unaware you were an immortal. Your spit is very human—who else would stop at McDonald's for lunch on their way to look at a crime scene?"

Josh clenched his jaw. "I meant—"

"Yeah, I'm sure you think you know what you meant."

"All _I_ know," Josh growled, "is I have a girlfriend who said she loved me, then threw me to the wolves."

"What is it with people and wolves, lately?" Kostan scowled. "Werewolves, this, werewolves, that…"

"Werewolves exist, too?!" Josh gasped.

"Of course not! Don't be ridiculous."

"Oh, but _vampires_ are plausible," Josh mocked.

"Um, obviously!" Kostan pointed back and forth between himself and the Cleaner.

"Enough of these games, Josef," the Cleaner interrupted, moving lithely towards Josh. "It's time to _end him_."

Kostan looked between her and Josh and tapped his finger thoughtfully against his lip. "You know…I don't think we _should_ kill him…"


	21. Chapter 20

Beta: Barb (Bank1115) is indispensable.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.

**What Are You, Mick St. John?—****Chapter 20**

The Cleaner stopped in her tracks. "You _cannot_ be serious."

Josh's heart started beating faster. _Is he serious_?!

Kostan turned and grinned knowingly at him. "…_Here_. I mean, I don't think we should kill him _here_," he finished.

Josh's heart plummeted down to his stomach.

Kostan grinned at him innocently, then turned to the Cleaner, who was still shaking her head. "This warehouse is a little too closely connected to the investigation Carl and Mr. Lindsey were perpetrating…I think we should distance this…unfortunate business…from it as much as possible. Mr. Lindsey is right about one thing—people will notice his demise. And if it takes place in a location such as this…"

"Fine, fine—" the Cleaner waved him off. "We'll take him somewhere else and make it good."

Kostan turned to grin at Josh. "And, as a lovely parting gift slash consolation prize—see? vampires aren't _all_ bad—we'll take out your biggest nemesis for free. So your death can 'mean something.'" He wiggled his fingers in air quotes for emphasis. "Come on…you're a prosecutor in the fatally flawed human justice system—there must be _someone_ you've been dying—pardon the pun—to get."

Josh narrowed his eyes. _If I'm going to die anyway…_ "Chemma Tejada," he growled and looked away.

Kostan nodded curtly in acknowledgement. "He'll be dead by morning. In fact, I think we'll frame him for _your_ murder, and kill two birds with one stone," he clapped his hands together. "It's poetic—I love it."

The Cleaner smiled slightly. "I'll get the prisoner ready for transport." She pulled a silk scarf out of her pocket and sashayed over to Josh. "Any last words, human?" She fluttered her eyelashes as she pulled the scarf taut between her hands.

Josh just sneered at her and pursed his lips.

"Now, now, no spitting," she scolded as she yanked the scarf between his lips and tied it tightly behind his head.

"Mmmphffff…"

"Oh, I'm sorry, what was that?" The Cleaner cocked her head. "Even with my superior hearing, I couldn't quite catch that…"

Josh glared at her.

She smiled cattily then said harshly, "Don't even think about trying to move—I only need one excuse to tear your throat out." She walked over to one of the tables and searched through the objects Lee Jay had left behind until she found some rope. She returned with a couple of lengths and bound Josh's hands and feet.

"Mugghhh," Josh groaned as she yanked the knots tight.

"Oh, did the ropes burn you a little? So sorry, darling." She moved to give him a slow kiss on the cheek, followed by a rough lick. Josh shuddered in disgust. She grinned wickedly, then looked over to Kostan, who was scowling in the direction of the door.

"Wait a minute—" he turned to the Cleaner, "I didn't see the van. Where did you park?"

The Cleaner straightened up. "I'm off-duty; the others have the van. I drove my own car—parked over on the south side of the building."

Kostan's mouth dropped open. "That freaky little thing was _yours_? Since when do you drive a Smart Car? How the hell are we supposed to fit a body—dead _or_ alive—into _that_?!"

"Oh, and I bet you were Mr. Practicality when selecting a vehicle to drive here," the Cleaner glared at him. "I'm sure you chose something very _clean_ and _aerodynamic_. And by 'clean' and 'aerodynamic,' I mean 'expensive' and 'a very eye-catching bright red'…"

Kostan bristled. "The Ferrari, at least, has a _trunk_. And it's not _bright red_, it's…" he paused for emphasis, "…_vermillion_."

The Cleaner rolled her eyes. "Ugh."

"_Relax_. We'll shove him in the trunk of the Ferrari and have your dashing young Lieutenant follow behind in case I get pulled over for driving while looking devastatingly good."

The Cleaner stared at him a moment before setting her jaw in resignation. "Fine. Whatever. Now, where are we going?"

"Let me make a call." Kostan whipped his cell phone out of his pocket. "Yeah—Ryder. I need a location on one Chemma Tejada. Send me a text message when you have it." He snapped his phone shut. "He secure?" he asked the Cleaner. She nodded.

"Let's go, then. I'll back the Ferrari up to the door for you." Kostan was gone so fast Josh barely saw him move.

The Cleaner gripped Josh's collar and yanked him to his feet, then threw him face-first over her shoulder. "Now, Mr. Lindsey—don't try anything funny." She walked slowly to the entrance of the warehouse, taking extra special care to jostle him and bump into things. Josh groaned as his leg smacked into a metal cabinet.

Finally he felt a breeze and they were outside. Kostan had already backed the Ferrari up to the door and was waiting patiently by the rear of the vehicle. He spread his arms wide over the opened trunk with a flourish as if he were Vanna White displaying a prize.

_Ass_. Josh glared up at him. Kostan returned his glare with a knowing smirk and Josh looked away. Upside-down, it took him a moment to make out Carl and St. John standing over by Carl's Toyota, watching the scene. Evidently Kostan had already filled them in. His eyes narrowed. _Carl—traitor. And __St. John__ must be loving this—getting his rival taken out without having to lift a finger_. Suddenly he was heaved up and thrown down into a hot trunk—hard. He bit his tongue despite the gag and grimaced in pain. The Cleaner roughly bent his limbs to make him fit inside the small trunk.

Kostan and the Cleaner stood over the trunk, gazing smugly down at him. "Ever rode in a Ferrari, Mr. Lindsey?—well, here's your chance," Kostan said brightly. Then he closed the trunk with a firm hand. Josh heard muffled voices, then felt the left side door open and slam shut, followed the by the right. The car rumbled to life and the engine revved a few times before gliding smoothly into motion.

Josh wriggled around a little, trying to get comfortable in the cramped space. _Now what? If I don't get out of here, I'm going to die_. He shuddered despite the heat.

* * *

Carl was still reeling from Josef's rapid-fire delivery of the new plan: "_Hey, Mick, Carl. Haven't killed the lawyer yet. Decided we're gonna let Tejada do it. Carl—you follow the Ferrari. Mick—you stay here and play guard dog till the on-duty Cleaning crew gets here to sanitize the place from top to bottom, then you can go check on Blondie like I know you want to. Got it? Good. Let's roll_." Mick had stood, solid, nodding, while Carl had stood on rubbery legs, blinking. _Tejada_?

A couple minutes later, Carl found himself in his car, following several car lengths behind Josef and the Cleaner in the Ferrari. Before they pulled out of the alley, Josef had called him and told him what route they would be taking and to hang back a bit so they wouldn't be associated. But he wanted Carl to be nearby in case he needed him to 'protect and serve.'

"Damn," Carl smacked the steering wheel when he saw the flashing lights up ahead. "Double damn," he said as he pulled up behind the cruiser and saw Officers MacCallum and Johnson had already forced Josef and the Cleaner out of the car and were preparing to pat them down.

"Hey!" Carl half-jogged up to the Ferrari. "Just what do you think you're doing?" He glared especially at Johnson, who was paying a lot more attention to the Cleaner despite the fact that it was Josef he was patting down.

"Lieutenant," MacCallum stepped forward eagerly. "We caught Mr. Kostan here doing 40 in a 35 zone."

Carl's tone was sharp. "This man is a material witness in an ongoing investigation, and you're harassing him?"

"Witness? But I—I thought…you…" MacCallum faltered.

"You thought what, MacCallum?"

MacCallum tilted her head for Carl to follow her a little ways away. "This was the suspicious Ferrari," she whispered, "from the warehouse district. That you were asking us about…your lead…?"

"Yeah. That doesn't mean you pull it over on something trivial."

"I thought we might get lucky, sir...besides the obvious soliciting charge," MacCallum glanced over at the woman in black leather, who glared back as though she'd heard her remark. MacCallum looked away quickly.

"And what? Find a body in the trunk?" Carl snorted. "Tell you what: I'll check the trunk later just to humour you. But for right now, you need to get out of here and stop calling attention to this car before you jeopardize this entire investigation—if you haven't already."

"Sorry, Lieutenant—we didn't know," MacCallum replied, chastened.

Carl softened a little. "I know—it's okay. I do appreciate your vigilance—next time, maybe just call me about it first." He smiled slightly at her. "Okay?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded and straightened her shoulders. Carl patted her arm and led her back over to the others.

The Cleaner was leaning against the Ferrari, arms crossed across her chest and one ankle hooked over the other. She had one eyebrow cocked at a mesmerized Johnson. Josef was looking on, obviously highly amused. Carl had to clear his throat loudly to get the officer's attention. _If this guy doesn't stop staring at…Ms…Cleaner—man, I really have to find out her name—I'm going to do everything in my power to get him assigned to desk duty for a year_.

"Officer Johnson. Thank you for your assistance; I'll take it from here."

"Er, right—yes sir." Johnson took several steps back as Carl moved over to Josef and the Cleaner.

"Are you all right?" Carl whispered to the Cleaner.

She smiled sweetly at him. "Of course I'm fine. He was just staring—I get that a lot. _She_—" the Cleaner peered around Carl to glare at MacCallum—"was the one thinking I was Josef's hooker."

"Score one for the clean and aerodynamic uniforms distracting the cops," Josef smirked.

"Minus one for the Inconspicuous-Mobile getting us pulled over in the first place," the Cleaner hissed back.

"Hey." Carl stepped in between them, "not now." He looked behind him to see the officers still standing there. "I believe I said I'll take it from here, officers. —Thanks," he added tersely.

MacCallum frowned slightly and looked at Johnson, who shrugged. "Yes sir," she acknowledged and moved back toward her partner and their vehicle. Carl heard her mutter to her partner as they passed the rear end of the Ferrari, "Who wears a full black leather bodysuit in LA, anyway?"

A loud _thump!_ stopped the officers in their tracks. MacCallum glanced sharply at the car. "What was that noise?"


	22. Chapter 21

Author's note: Sorry for the wait again. I had it "done" and back from my beta, but then I realized a few things didn't work out so well for later, so I had to go back and change some things and then send it back to my beta again. I'm still not entirely happy with it, but whatever. I almost split it into two, because it's the length of two short chapters, but it's probably best if I don't drag this Josh situation out anymore, eh? So you get an extra long chapter today.

Beta: Barb (Bank1115) gets extra thanks and appreciation for looking at this chapter not once, but TWICE, and for putting up with me in general…

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**  
What Are You, Mick St. John?**—**Chapter 21**

"It sounded like it was coming from the vehicle," MacCallum looked back at Josef, who remained a stoic cherub.

Carl immediately kicked the front hubcap and tire a few times, ignoring the swift, dark glare Josef sent his way. "No, sorry if I startled you—it was just me checking out the vehicle." Carl smacked the lid of the trunk hard. "—Solid as a rock." He flashed MacCallum a charming grin. "Sometimes a Ferrari is just a Ferrari, MacCallum."

"Yes, sir."

Carl looked pointedly from her to the cruiser several times.

"Yes, sir." MacCallum nodded again. "Come on, Steve—let's go."

Johnson looked over his shoulder at the Cleaner several times as he and his partner returned to their cruiser.

Carl and the vampires watched them drive off, and then looked at each other.

"You just had to speed, didn't you," Carl hissed. "I almost had two heart attacks and an aneurysm in the last five minutes."

"Oh, Lieutenant, you did _not_—stop being so dramatic!" Josef snorted. "Your ticker was fast, but it never faltered." He grinned at Carl, who was rolling his eyes, then shrugged his shoulders with his palms turned up. "Besides, people would be suspicious if a Ferrari _wasn't_ going over the speed limit. But I didn't expect your eager beaver boy scouts to be all over us like that."

"Yeah…sorry about that." Carl flinched uneasily.

The Cleaner smiled reassuringly at him. "I was admittedly a little worried when Mr. Lindsey"—she looked darkly at the trunk—"decided to bang around in there, but you saved us. Nice thinking, making noise with the car yourself."

"Yeah…nice thinking…" Josef growled. "But if you _ever_ kick—no, if you ever_ touch_ my car again, Lieutenant, so help me, I'll shove your badge so far up your—"

"Josef!" the Cleaner cut him off with a nasty look. "Stop harassing the Lieutenant for saving your ass. Your precious hunk of metal doesn't have a scratch. Now…can we just go get back on the road? I'm sure Mr. Lindsey has figured out by now that no one is coming to his rescue."

"_Fine_!" Josef sang. "Let's roll, baby." He opened his door and started to climb in.

"Um—" Carl began, and Josef looked back at him. "—I should have started my shift a couple hours ago."

Josef frowned. "Go. You don't want to cause suspicion. I'll try not to do anything that would set off your pals again—hmm," he pretended to muse, "maybe we should stop and buy Ms. Cleaner a nice gingham dress?"

The Cleaner reached over the side of the convertible and smacked him on the back of the head before turning to Carl again. "Thank you for your help—Carl. Once again, you're my hero."

Carl nodded, blushing a little as the Cleaner moved toward him on her way back to the passenger seat. As she passed him, she pulled a business card out of a hidden pocket and tucked it into his jacket with an enigmatic smile and a wink, "So we can talk later." He grinned and let his eyes follow her into the car.

Josef started pressing buttons on the dashboard. "Okay, forget trying to look like a human, the sun's still way too hot to have this top down—up it goes. We'll be in touch later, Lieutenant—ciao!" Josef waved as the roof moved in place above his and the Cleaner's heads.

Carl shook his head as he watched the Ferrari disappear down the road before walking back to his car. _If someone had told me _these_ were the kinds of things I'd have to put up with if vampires existed…I never would have believed them._

* * *

It was getting stuffy in the trunk. Josh cursed Carl and his quick thinking—and those moron cops for buying his act.

Soon they were driving again. Josh had no idea how much time had passed before they finally slowed and parked. He felt and heard the car doors slam. A moment later, a key scraped in the lock and the lid popped open. He breathed in deeply. _Ah, air! …and vampires_. He narrowed his eyes at Kostan and the Cleaner, who were staring down at him.

"Mr. Lindsey—welcome to the alley behind 'the Hollenback Bar, near Chatsworth,'" Kostan bowed stiffly. "—Sounds like an estate I had back when I was the Duke of Something-or-other." He straightened up. "—But, apparently this is where Tejada is holed up, according to Ryder's info." He stopped his movements suddenly and looked at the Cleaner. "Holl-en-back—do you think it's called that because Tejada's holed up in back? If so, that's _really_ lame." He shook his head disapprovingly.

The Cleaner shot him an amused look. "How did Ryder manage to track him down, anyway?"

"I told you—maestro of all things telephonic." Kostan waved his hand dramatically in front of him.

"Hmm," the vampiress grunted as she yanked Josh up out of the trunk.

Kostan threw a black car cover over the Ferrari. "Even I'll admit parking a Ferrari in an alley where someone could see it and become suspicious isn't the smartest of plans, but it's better than out front where _everyone_ can see it and become suspicious."

The Cleaner and Kostan each took one of Josh's arms firm in hand and began walking down the alley towards the front of the bar, occasionally letting Josh's feet hit the ground. When they neared the end of the alley, Kostan left the Cleaner and Josh behind and went to look in front of the building. Josh saw Kostan scan the area and then saw his lips moving, but he couldn't hear anything. Suddenly the Cleaner threw him across her shoulder and ran down the alley at a speed so fast Josh's cheeks jiggled like Jello. She stopped just as suddenly, and his head was still spinning. _Holy crap…I wonder what it would be like…_

They were now standing with Kostan, who nodded to the parking lot "In a few hours, I bet this place will be filled with flashy cars. Mine would've fit right in," he jeered the Cleaner over Josh's head.

The Cleaner leaned forward. "But we're not here in a few hours, are we? We're here _now_. And your flashy car didn't fit in so well on the road when it got you pulled over on the way here and almost blew the game."

"_Almost_ being the operative word, thanks to your boyfriend's quick thinking. You should turn him—he could be a real boon to the tribe."

"He's not my boyfriend," the Cleaner snapped. "And nobody's turning anyone."

"Yet…" Kostan glanced at her sideways. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much—on both counts."

She heaved an exasperated sigh. "By the way, must you tease him, Josef?"

"Yep—but we'll have to talk about this later. You know how much I love discussing awkward situations, but I've got the ADA's murder to arrange and Tejada to frame for it; I'm _swamped_."

Josh and the Cleaner both looked at him strangely as he opened the door to the bar. Kostan stopped in his tracks as he noticed them staring. "What?" After a moment, he shrugged and waved the Cleaner in ahead of him. "Ladies first."

Kostan dropped Josh's arm as soon as they were in the door and stepped over to the bar. The Cleaner threw Josh into a booth and stood beside it. Josh surveyed the room. The bartender appeared to be the only person present, but he knew Tejada wouldn't be without one bodyguard at the very least. _Could there still be a chance for me to get away?_

The bartender eyed the motley crew suspiciously. "We don't open for another few hours. Beat it."

The Cleaner pouted. "Oh, but I'm so thirsty," she called from across the room.

The bartender looked at her and pursed his lips. "Well, maybe _you_ can stay, chica…"

Kostan took that moment to grab his head and crack it hard against the counter. He let the unconscious bartender slide to the floor, then peered over the bar at his prone form and shook his head pityingly. "He'll be out for a while—I do not envy him the headache he will have when he awakes."

The Cleaner looked at him strangely. "Right..."

"_If_ he awakes," Kostan qualified. "I don't think we'll be leaving any little birdies alive to sing." He looked around the room. "It's _inconceivable_ that there's no one else here! I would've thought a guy like Tejada would have _someone_ here guarding him—the bartender doesn't count, I'm sure."

The next moment the vampires cocked their heads in the direction of the washrooms and a large guy covered in tattoos came out of the men's room. He noticed Kostan first and pulled his gun.

"Hey there, big guy," the Cleaner winked at him.

The gangbanger's eyes shot over her way and widened. Kostan appeared at his side before he had time to blink, grabbed the gun with his sleeve, and threw him across the room. The gangbanger crashed hard into the wall and slumped to the floor.

"Well, this was fun. I can see why Mick does it all the time. I can't hear any other heartbeats—or toilets flushing. You?"

The Cleaner shook her head.

"Then let's go find Mr. Tejada." Kostan tossed the gun to the Cleaner, who caught it with the hand not gripping Josh's arm. "Can you see if there is any way to trace that gun? I want it clean for later use. 'Mr. Lindsey' will be using it to take out the witnesses; he just won't be aware of it." He led the way down the hallway as the Cleaner dragged Josh along with her. He stopped in front of the office door at the back and knocked loudly.

"Venido!" a man grunted from within the office.

Kostan turned to grin at Josh. "Bingo!" He opened the door and moved over the threshold. "Tejada," he stepped forward, palms up. The Cleaner quickly yanked Josh in with her.

Tejada scrambled to pick up his gun and point it at Kostan. He scowled at Kostan, then the Cleaner, and barely glanced at Josh, but Josh saw recognition flash in his eyes for that split second. "Who the hell are you?" Tejada tilted his chin up at Kostan. "How did you get in here?"

Kostan put his hands up. "Hey, I'm just the messenger—don't shoot. I come bearing gifts—well, actually, just one gift, but it's big. I think you'll like it." He snapped his fingers, and the Cleaner stepped forward, dragging Josh out in front of Tejada's desk, where she tossed him on the ground, still bound and gagged. Josh landed hard, but the gag muffled his groan. The Cleaner retreated behind Kostan.

"What's this?" Tejada frowned.

"Oh, I'm sorry; ADA Lindsey said you'd be pleased to have him trussed up like a pig on a spit and tossed on your doorstep." He turned to the Cleaner. "Never mind—pack him back up; let's go."

"Forget that," Tejada ordered. "_I_ say when you leave."

Josh saw Kostan school his face carefully as he faced Tejada again. "Well, we'll see about that," Kostan said smoothly.

"Who sent you?" Tejada barked.

"Me?" Kostan laid a hand over his heart. "I come on behalf of the entire community. The community feels that it would be best for everyone if the ADA were 'removed from circulation,' and we've chosen you to assist us with this public service."

"That makes no sense. Why you really here, cracker?" Tejada growled.

Kostan looked down at Josh on the floor. "Did he just call me a _cracker_?" he indicated himself in disbelief. Josh just stared unblinking back at him. Kostan wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "Right…" He turned back to Tejada. "I'm here because I want you to shoot him."

Josh's face twitched in contempt.

Tejada looked suspiciously between him and Kostan. "If you're some dumbass cop, then this is entrapment."

"Wow—this is fascinating. A cop recently called me a smartass punk. Now some punk in a suit is calling me a dumbass cop. Maybe you two should get together sometime and compare notes—you both can't be right."

"I ask you one last time: who the hell are you and why the hell are you here?"

"Ooh, testy," Kostan smirked before continuing boldly, "who I am is none of your concern. What you should be concerned about is what I'm going to do to you if you don't _shoot him_." He pointed a finger at Josh.

Tejada fired off three shots into Kostan instead. Kostan's body jerked slightly with each impact, but he remained standing. A wicked grin spread across his face.

Josh saw Tejada's eyes widen. _I may enjoy watching Tejada squirm a little…but I won't thank the vampire for it—not while it's a part of my death ritual. _

"How—how are you still standing?" Tejada stuttered a little. Then he hardened again. "Armour? You must have…armour—what are you wearing underneath? _I wanna know now_."

"Yeah, I have a bulletproof chest—er, vest," Kostan self-corrected cheekily. "—Maybe we can work out a deal after you stop wasting your bullets and _SHOOT HIM_," he boomed the last words.

"Not until you tell me what your game is," Tejada clenched his jaw.

Before Tejada could even blink, Kostan had rounded the desk and was at his side, growling in his ear, "You shouldn't look gift horses in the mouth, Tejada." He opened his mouth, giving Tejada a clear look at his fangs.

"El Diablo!" Tejada started shaking uncontrollably. "_El Diablo_!"

"That's right," Kostan hissed, snaking his head. "—Now _do as I say_, or you're going to find out why your methods of torture and intimidation are tame and immature."

Trembling, Tejada lifted the gun and squeezed the trigger three times.

Josh spasmed and cried out into the gag as the first bullet went wide and hit him in the thigh. _I can't believe this is happening_. Two more shots followed in rapid succession; one lodged in his neck, the other punctured his right lung. Josh lurched and shuddered to breathe. He jerked his head to the side and saw a dark crimson stain spreading across the floor beside him. _Oh my gosh…_ He twisted his head back up to see Kostan cradling Tejada's neck in one hand.

Kostan snarled in Tejada's face, "You might've made a good vampire—if only you weren't such a terrible human." Tejada's eyes bugged out of his head just before the vampire snapped his neck with a sharp crack. "Who's the cracker now, huh?" Kostan hissed as he let Tejada's lifeless body crumple to the floor. "Grab him," he said to the Cleaner, referring to Tejada. "We'll be making a little visit to the tar pits on our way out of here. And then 'Mr. Tejada' will apparently be getting on a plane to some country that doesn't have an extradition treaty with the United States—haven't decided which one yet."

Josh snorted and belched more blood into his mouth. There was nowhere for it to go; he was still gagged. The vampire knelt beside him, avoiding the expanding crimson pool, and leaned over his face to look him directly in the eye. "Well, Mr. Lindsey—I hope you enjoyed that last little show as you go not-so-gently into that good night…"

Josh focused on Kostan's ice-blue eyes and gurgled a little as his mouth filled with blood. _Beth…Beth has blue eyes_. Darkness began to envelop him and the eyes faded to mere pinpricks of light before disappearing altogether.


	23. Chapter 22

Author's note: Yes, believe it—this really is Chapter 22 of _What Are You, Mick St. John?_. I am so sorry for the long delay. Back at the beginning of the summer, my Moonlight Muse went AWOL; I didn't feel like writing or even _reading_ anything to do with Moonlight. so I dropped off the boards for a while. But the muse has been returning lately—let's hope she sticks around for a while!

Beta: Barb (Bank1115) is awesome.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**

* * *

  
What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 22**

Carl sat down at his desk and picked up the phone. "Yeah, it's Lieutenant Carl Davis—is ADA Josh Lindsey still in the office?"

"_I'm sorry, Lieutenant, Mr. Lindsey didn't come in today except to pick up some papers_."

"Oh," Carl tried to sound surprised. "He called me earlier, I guess he must have been on his cell. Just remind him to call me, will you? Thanks."

He hung up with a sigh, then dialed Josh's cell number. It went straight to voicemail. "Hey Josh, it's Carl Davis. Just checking in, didn't hear back from you." He dropped the receiver back on the cradle. _Okay—groundwork laid_. _Now, if anyone inquires about that little phone call Josh made to me earlier, I can make it look like we were playing phone tag instead of deadly fun and games with vampires._ Vampires_…__even if I told the truth, no one would believe me—except maybe Maizie…Maizie!!! Oh boy…I hope they figure something out so she doesn't have to make a choice like Josh did…though I'd like to think she'd make the right one…but I guess you never know. Josh sure didn't. But then, I guess jealousy makes good men fools._

He leaned back in his chair and took the Cleaner's business card out of his pocket. The number 555-2562 was written in bold red gothic script on black stock. _Geez—they're just asking to be found out as vampires, aren't they?_ He flipped the card over; it was blank. He traced the numbers with his fingertip. _I wonder…_ He pulled his keyboard out towards him and did a search on the number. It was an unregistered phone—completely untraceable. _Like that's surprising…but now I_ still _don't know her name. Although, who knows how many names she's had over however many years—but maybe I'd better not think about_ that _too much__._

Carl tucked the card back into his pocket and forced himself to concentrate on some paperwork. He let himself look at his watch after what felt like half an hour and was exasperated to find it had only been ten minutes. _Damn! —and what am I even doing, I can't call her yet. She's still…wait, better not think about that too much, either__. _He looked surreptitiously around the room, suddenly sure that everyone's eyes were on him—but they all appeared focused on their work. _Now you're getting paranoid. Kostan's really starting to rub off on you—and that's probably not a good thing__._

With a deep intake of breath, he pulled another file off his stack and absorbed himself in the paperwork. Well over an hour and several glances at his watch later, Carl's cell vibrated suddenly on his desk and he nearly jumped out of his seat. "Davis," he answered.

"_It's done_."

It took Carl several seconds to realize that the call had ended and he still had the phone up to his ear. Swallowing, he flipped it shut and tossed it on his desk. _It's done_._ Josh Lindsey is dead_. He bowed his head to his desk for a moment and took a few deep breaths in and out.

"You all right, Lieutenant?"

Carl's head snapped up. One of the desk sergeants was standing in front of his desk. "What? Yeah, I'm okay."

"Bad news?" the sergeant inquired.

"Bad news?" _Yeah, you could say that__. _"No, it was a wrong number," Carl growled.

"Wrong numbers never put me that out of joint," the sergeant raised a questioning eyebrow.

_Are all cops this nosy?—Am I this nosy?_ "It—well, let's just say I was expecting a big call, and thought that might be it, but it wasn't it," he managed to grin.

"Ah. New lady friend?" the sergeant nodded knowingly.

_Who hired this guy?_ Carl let his grin widen and hoped it didn't look too forced.

"Ah-ha! What's her name?"

Carl hesitated. "I'd rather not say…" _…__because I don't know it, and even if I did know it, it might be a secret. Geez, it's like she's Cinderella or something. But at least I have her card burning a hole in my pocket rather than a glass slipper__. _

"Fair enough," the sergeant said.

Carl noted with irritation that he didn't appear satisfied. "Look, it might not work out, so—and I need to get back to my paperwork." He poised his pen over a piece of paper and looked pointedly at the sergeant.

The sergeant cleared his throat. "Yes, of course sir." He lingered awkwardly for a moment, then moved over to the file cabinet that had been his original destination.

Carl shook his head. _Geez, and I thought vampires were the only nosy ones with no tact__._ He scratched his signature onto the page in front of him, then put it aside and stared at the next sheet of paper for several moments as his thoughts inevitably drifted back to what Ms. Cleaner was doing now, and wondering how it had all gone with Josh—and when and how he'd "find out" about Josh Lindsey's death.

He got his answer fifteen minutes later when a call came from the assistant to the chief of police.

"_Lieutenant Davis, Chief Murphy needs to speak to you immediately__._"

Carl felt his heart jump in his chest. _This must be it__._ "Thank you. I'll be right up."

* * *

"Lieutenant Davis," Chief Murphy greeted him as Carl walked through the door to his office. He gestured toward a seat in front of his desk. Carl took it, and the chief pressed his hands together in a triangle and began speaking immediately.

"Twenty minutes ago, a 911 operator received an anonymous call about several bodies at a bar near Chatsworth. First officers on the scene recognized one of the bodies." The chief pressed his lips together grimly for a moment. "It was ADA Josh Lindsey."

Carl sucked in a breath as he rose suddenly and turned away. "No…No! —How?"

"Looks like he took a few bullets. I don't know the particulars yet, but—lucky for Lindsey—it seems rather tame for a Tejada assassination."

"Damn!" Carl whirled around and smacked the wall in front of him. He leaned against it for a moment, then he turned back to face the chief. _This better look and sound good__._ "What the hell was he doing at a bar at this time of the evening?"

The chief cleared his throat. "The bar appears to have ties to Chemma Tejada."

Carl stared at him, shaking his head furiously. "You know, Josh tried to call me this afternoon, but as soon as I answered, he said he'd have to call me back. He never did, so I finally called his office an hour or two ago. They said he never came in today except to pick something up. I tried his cell, but just got his voicemail." He started pacing the room. "I thought he was busy, or something. If only I'd paid more attention to how he sounded—maybe that was when it started; if it was Tejada, he kidnapped him and brought him to that bar. Damn!" he finished fiercely.

"Lieutenant Davis—_Carl_, you can't blame yourself for this."

_Oh, I don't_. Carl just shook his head. "Yeah—well, I'll try and hold judgment until I get all the facts."

"That's why you're a good detective, Davis. Keep it up." Chief Murphy eyed him closely. "If you think you can keep your head, I'd like you to take lead on this—you already have an idea of who we're dealing with."

_You have no idea__. _"Of—of course," Carl managed to choke out. He swallowed. "Yeah, I can handle it. I want this."

"Good," the chief nodded brusquely and leaned forward, "—Let's get this son of a bitch. Lindsey wasn't a cop, but he was on our side."

_He was on a couple of sides, Chief; one was ours, the other was wrong—a whole other dimension you don't realize exists and probably never will__._ "Yes, sir." Carl saluted on his way out the door, but then stopped abruptly. "Has someone told Beth—Turner, his girlfriend?"

"No; she hasn't been notified. I'll be making the notification myself after I visit the scene. Thankfully it hasn't hit the news feeds yet; the uniforms are keeping the scene under wraps—but who knows how long that'll last."

"You'd better let me go with you. It'll be easier coming from a friend." _If she still considers me that__. _


	24. Chapter 23

Author's note: Yes—9 months later, here is Chapter 23 of _What Are you, Mick St. John?_ My deepest apologies for the delay—I really can't believe it's been that long!—but the muse kept going AWOL. It was a tough chapter to write, with Carl and especially Beth's reactions to Josh's death.

Beta: Barb (Bank1115) is awesome as usual, as was Special Guest Beta VampFan5 (thanks for the you-know-who appearance idea!).

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**What Are You, Mick St. John?****—****Chapter 23**

Carl stared down at the body of his former friend lying bound and gagged on the cold floor of Tejada's office. "Damn…" he shook his head. Blood had trailed from two bullet wounds in Josh's chest and one in his thigh and pooled around his body. The scarf stuffed and stretched between his lips was also soaked with blood. "Damn!" Carl rubbed a hand against his forehead. _How did it come to this so fast? _"This is so messed up."

"It's monstrous, is what it is," came Chief Murphy's voice over his shoulder.

He stiffened.

"It's inhuman," the chief continued, and moved to stand beside him. "A monster did this. Tejada is a monster."

Carl nodded slowly. _Technically, Tejada _did_ do this, so I'm not lying by agreeing…am I? _

The chief was shaking his head. "I'm going to go do my best to make sure the press hasn't got wind of this yet. It's inevitable, but Lindsey deserves at least a few minutes of peace." He laid a hand on Carl's shoulder as he passed. "I leave it in your hands. Keep me informed."

Carl turned and found himself facing an unusually large contingent of officers and forensics investigators. He took a deep breath. "All right…I want this place processed from top to bottom, and everything comes through me. You hear me? _Everything_. If an ant sneezed on a piece of evidence, I want to know about it." _And then I have to figure out how to make ant snot magically disappear. _

His phone rang. An unknown number showed on the screen. "Davis," he answered sharply.

"_If you cannot speak freely, say 'yes, this is Carl Davis_,'" said a familiar male voice.

"Yes, this is Carl Davis."

"_If your present company asks, this is about your current long distance plan. I'll talk fast—there are a few things you need to know. Do not look out the window, but 'Ms. Cleaner' is watching the bar from the roof of the building across the street in case of problems. We knocked the bartender and one of Tejada's goons unconscious, then went and had Tejada shoot Josh. Tejada is dead, but you won't find his body. We'll make it look like he is alive and escaped to a country where you can't get him."_

Carl schooled his face into a scowl. "Must we do this now?"

"_I'll assume you're saying that for the benefit of the long distance cover and not talking back to me_."

"Sort of."

"_Interesting. Anyway, we took a gun off one of the gangbangers. I was going to rig it so it looked like Josh shot the bartender and the aforementioned gangbanger, but Ms. Cleaner said it wouldn't work since Josh was obviously bound and gagged when he kicked the bucket. So instead we used Tejada's gun and made it look like he had kidnapped the ADA, killed him, and then was cleaning house before he fled. Got it?_"

"Look, I'm fine with my current plan—"

"_Nice touch. Make sure you keep tabs on your lab techs, in case they find anything unusual. Cleaners are very good at what they do, but they're only hu—oh, wait, they're not. But still, the same principle applies. And if you can, get the same guy that was working on the stuff before to do it. If I have to kill more people, I'd like to try and keep the numbers down._"

Carl rolled his eyes. "This _really_ isn't a good time."

"_It's never _really _an ideal time to kill an ADA, but at least it's not the Ides of March._ _Now, if you understand everything I just said, say, 'Yes, I _am_ a warthog-faced buffoon.'_"

"Yes, I—what?" Carl scowled.

"_Have a lovely day, Lieutenant, and thank you for choosing Vampires!_"

"Ugh," Carl snorted and snapped his phone shut. _When Grandma ordered me to respect my elders, I don't think she knew about Josef Kostan. _Then he noticed the officers and forensics investigators giving him odd looks. "What? —Stupid phone company calling to talk about my long distance plan—can you believe them? How _do_ they always know to call at the worst possible times?"

"Big Brother is watching," one of the officers muttered and looked around the room with a smirk.

"Yeah, you ain't kidding," Carl muttered. "All right, let's get on with this."

* * *

After half an hour, the smell of Josh's blood was overwhelming and Carl found himself outside bent over his knees and rapidly inhaling fresh air. _Okay, so after more than a decade on the force and three years in homicide, I meet a vampiress and _now_ I can't handle the smell of blood…I guess I'd suck as a vampire. _He snorted. _Or rather, make that I _wouldn't_ suck. —Oh, great, now I'm making bad puns and laughing at them._ He rubbed both his hands through his hair._ Gosh, I hope Ms. Cleaner isn't watching me right now…_ He straightened up and leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

"The vultures have started circling, Lieutenant," an officer passing by nodded toward a news van pulling to a stop in the parking lot.

_Buzzwire… _A familiar blonde climbed out of the passenger side and Carl cursed under his breath. _And of all the crime scenes for her to be at…What the hell is Beth doing here? I thought she was at home! _

He strode up to her and grabbed her arm. "Beth. What are you doing here?"

"Oh. Carl," Beth flashed him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "What's going on? This looks big—I heard even the police chief is here. Come on, you gotta give me something. _You owe me_."

The tone of her voice that almost made him shiver. "Beth, I can't—Beth, you can't—you shouldn't be here," he hissed, looking around to make sure they couldn't be overheard, but her cameraman was busy getting his gear out of the back.

"Why not?" she clenched her jaw and wrenched her arm out of his grip. "It's a crime scene, I'm a crime reporter. You never questioned my presence at a scene before, however much you protested it."

"Beth…"

"I know you're wondering why I'm at work…considering…what happened this afternoon," she gulped and blinked back tears. "But I couldn't sit at home thinking about it—about _him_. This is like the nightmare that doesn't end. Did it all really happen? Did Josh really do and say what he did this afternoon? Did I? Did I really just walk away? I don't think it's even hit me that he must be gone. I just keep running over and over it in my mind, and—" she cut herself off abruptly.

Carl exhaled slowly. "That's exactly why you shouldn't be here…"

She looked at him sharply. "Why not? What do you mean?"

He pursed his lips and looked at the ground. "Beth…I'm—I'm so, so sorry—but Josh, he…well—it's him. He's here."

Beth furrowed her brow. "He's here?" her eyes flickered. "You mean they didn't—?" her breath caught in her throat, but Carl gave a miniscule shake of his head that killed any light in them. Her voice was flat. "Oh. I see."

He stared at the ground. "Not exactly…this is Tejada's hideout."

"Tejada? Why would Josh be—"

"They brought him here…to stage the scene. They let—they let Josh decide who would kill him. So at least…he finally got Tejada, Beth. Tejada can't hurt anyone anymore."

She looked away. "And_ neither can Josh_."

"Beth—"

She held up a hand. "I don't blame you, not really—this…this is all _my_ fault."

"_Your_ fault? Beth—"

"I lied to him, Carl. I _lied_ to him. If I hadn't—"

"If you hadn't lied to him—if you had told him what _really_ happened that night—Josh would still know about vampires, and he still might have reacted badly." At the look on her face, Carl expelled a breath. "Okay, admittedly maybe not _as_ bad, but you don't know that. You can't start thinking of what-ifs now. What happened, happened—Josh made his choices."

Beth shook her head. "And I made mine; I was a coward! The worst kind of chicken. I couldn't deal with it—what he'd done, especially since_ I _caused it. So I shut down. So I left him…there…to die alone, angry, afraid, and in pain, abandoned by the one he should trust most in the world. How could I do that, Carl? How could I do that."

The cameraman came over with his gear, but Carl held up a hand to stay him and pulled Beth farther away from the truck. He searched for something to say. "He wasn't himself. He wasn't acting like the Josh we knew."

"And it's because of _me_. I _tried_ to blame you; I tried to blame…Mick," her eyes filled with tears a moment before her voice hardened, "and I _really_ tried to blame Josef…but in the end, all trains led back to me.

"He was devastated, wasn't he—when he realized I'd been lying to him, covering for Mick?"

Carl hesitated a moment, remembering the look in Josh's eyes. Then he looked into Beth's and knew it was useless to lie to her. "…Yes."

"And then I pulled the trigger. I killed him, Carl—I _killed him_."

"We all played our parts," Carl murmured. "Even Josh."

She sucked in a huge breath and exhaled it shakily. "At least I have the cold comfort of knowing that I can't do this to anyone I love again—everyone I'm close to now is either a vampire…or you."

"Beth…"

She was wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Sometimes I _want_ to wish they didn't exist—or at least to go back to before, when ignorance really was bliss—but I can't bring myself to do it."

Carl exhaled. "Neither can I." His eyes drifted over to the rooftops of the buildings across the street. "Look, we'll get through this—together. We have to. They've let us into their world, and there's no going back."

"No—there isn't, is there."

Carl spied Chief Murphy walking across the parking lot, hat in hand. "Look, Beth, we're about to have company—you have to pull yourself together and be strong, or _we're all screwed_."

"I know…" Beth nodded quietly. "I know."

When the chief reached them, his eyes quickly searched Carl's, and Carl nodded in confirmation that he'd already broken the news. Chief Murphy extended a hand to Beth. "Miss Turner, you have my deepest condolences on your loss. Josh Lindsey was a great man and ADA who dedicated himself to protecting this community. I promise you, we will do everything in our power to bring the bastard that did this to justice."

She nodded hollowly and turned away. Carl exchanged a grim nod with his superior before the chief moved on to speak to an officer who was beckoning him.

"I think I want to go home now, Carl," Beth was saying.

"Look, I'm sorry—I have to stay, but I'll have someone drive you."

She nodded listlessly, as though she hadn't really heard him.

Carl noticed the man leaning against the bottle green Mercedes Benz parked at the edge of the parking lot at the same moment she did. Mick strode over to them quickly, his eyes locked on Beth. He acknowledged Carl with a quick glance, then looked back to her, shrugging with his arm half outstretched. "Beth."

"I don't want to talk to anyone." She turned away.

He reached out and touched her arm. "But you should."

Beth whipped around and said into his face, "Do you have _any_ idea what it's like to be responsible for the death of someone you loved?"

"Yes. I do."

He stared deep into her eyes. When her chin began to tremble a second later, he moved toward her, and she fell into his arms.

Carl's eyebrows had risen with Mick's admission. Mick now caught his questioning eye and tilted his head, indicating that he wanted to be alone with Beth. Carl nodded and turned to leave. _I get it. I'm not the one that needs the explanation right now—Beth does. But Mick sure knows how to pique a cop's curiosity…_

"Excuse me, sir—"

He stopped in his tracks. Beth's cameraman—he had nearly forgotten about him. _Good thing it's not what's-his-name, the regular guy—Steve?—he'd be a lot harder to put off. _He looked the young man up and down. "Look, Beth's not doing this story. Her friend is going to take her home. You should just take the van and go home, or back to work, or back under whatever rock you crawled out from."

"But—what do I tell our boss?"

"Beth had a family emergency. Now get out of here." Carl walked away, but not without looking back to confirm the Buzzwire van had pulled out of the parking lot. "Geez," he shook his head. _I need a drink. Why is it that whenever you need a drink, you can't have one?_

Without realizing it, he'd reached the edge of the parking lot and had nearly stepped out into the street. After a quick glance both ways to ensure he wasn't about to get taken out by traffic, he jogged across the road and into the alley between two buildings. _At least there I can have a moment alone to gather my thoughts. And if anyone asks why I crossed the road, it was the same reason as the chicken—due diligence. _

He was poking around aimlessly in a pile of trash when he heard the click of a heeled boot on the pavement behind him. He froze.

"Lieutenant Davis."


End file.
